You thought I was your enemy?
by Magician Irono
Summary: "You really are your own worst enemy."
1. Part 1

Hey, my first JJBA fic! And my first AU fic! I think. . . .

I should mention that the time period is different. Instead of it taking place in the year 1987, despite using part 3 characters, I'm placing it in 1995. The reasons will become clear as the story progresses, though I did want to give a heads up so no one gets confused (or angry, for that matter). Most if not all of the characters will be same age as in part 3, it's just set in a different time period. Certain Stands may or may not appear and certain characters from part 4 may or may not appear, as that does take place in the 90s. This has been a PSA for my fanfic's logic and setting.

Also, I may or may not have taken bits and pieces from _My Neighbor Totoro_ and _Spirited Away_. Those belong to Hayao Miyazaki and JJBA belongs to Araki. Enjoy! :P

Part 1

 _Good luck. May we meet again. I will never forget you._

 _-Hanako_

Jotaro stared blankly at the card before sliding it back in the envelope and tossing it back to the stack. There were too many goodbye cards to count, and all from the girls at his old school. Some of them came with heart patterned stickers, some with red envelopes or specially embellished letter paper. If he'd read one, he'd probably read them all. The contents were sickeningly sweet, the young man could already tell.

"Oh, Jotaro! That looks like your new school!"

He caught a glimpse before it was gone. A white building, three floors, a grey roof. Just as the car had gone completely past, he could see a gate opening with a concrete grey sign. The words blurred by, but he could make out the word "asahi". Morning sun. Not a single person could be seen in the lot in front. Were they in the middle of class? Registration had already been taken care of but Jotaro wouldn't have had to go for today, as agreed upon by his family and the staff.

New school. New house. New town. It should have been frightening or somber.

"You're awfully quiet back there, son."

Jotaro looked to the driver's seat where his father sat. Sadao Kujo was a Japanese man of average height and weight. It was a rare sight, having him within the safe, one meter radius of his wife and son. Some said that he and Jotaro were definitely related, that the green eyes and black hair were uncannily similar. Others couldn't see it. Sadao was such a warm and inviting man, as shown in the crinkle in his eyes when he smiled and softer details of his countenance. They even pitied him for having such a cold and callous son. To the older man's left sat his wife and Jotaro's mother. Holly Kujo, with her blonde curls, blue eyes and red lipped smile, was a resilient woman in her own way. No matter the situation, she simply refused to let it pass without finding something to be happy about. The death of her great grandmother Erina? She talked volumes about meeting her extended family. Moving to Japan and away from her father? The new world was beautiful and amazing- the travel guides she had read just didn't do it justice. Sadao being on tour? She would ramble on and on about what postcard he might send next. Even as they were driving down the narrow, winding streets, farther and farther away from where Jotaro had spent most of his life, she leaned out the car window and gushed over the new shops and parks. The list of what she would tell her girlfriends grew longer by the second.

The man threw a brief look back to Jotaro before returning his focus to the road. "Did you get any cards from your friends?"

Jotaro shrugged in response. No, there weren't many, but it didn't bother him. If you're too popular, you never get a quiet moment. He already had hardly any to spare and if they girls were similar, The situation wouldn't change.

The man tried again. "Are you excited? It's ok if you miss your old school. I remember missing the old bar I used to play in when I first started out. Don't worry: You'll make new friends in no time."

New friends, huh? Jotaro went back to looking out the window. It wasn't quite the same. Trees scattered sparse, though they still had leaves and needles like the ones back home. He could see the occasional _torii_ in need of a paint job and a shrine to complement it. The people drove, biked and walked like it was just another ordinary day. There was life, ebbing and flowing through the streets. No one spared this foreign, old car a second glance.

"And if not, you can use the phone and call them whenever you want. Your mother will come scold you if you've been hogging it for too long, I'm sure."

It was too noisy. Yes, he loved his family. Yes, he was fine with the move. The only issue was that he had to hear what felt like the same things on repeat over and over again. He knew all this already. The car stopped smoothly before a red light. Jotaro watched the flow of traffic, placed a hand on the luggage next to him in anticipation of the next turn. Pedestrians scuttled across the way. A car or two turned onto the road next to the movers. From left to right, Jotaro could see that the moving truck had caught up at the intersection and would most likely beat them to the new house. He grimaced. It even had that God awful Speedwagon logo on the side of the body.

"C'mon, Jotaro." The woman finally tore her eyes away from the outside view. "Get a little excited. It's a whole new place to explore. It's an adventure!" A flash of green blazed outside. Everything in the car shifted with the turn.

An adventure huh? "That's one way to think about it," Jotaro finally replied. They probably wouldn't stop pestering him to speak until he actually did.

In all honesty, it didn't feel like an adventure to him. None of this felt new or fresh or like he was being given a second chance of any kind. This chapter was going to be just like the last one. It would be just like the one before that and the one before even that. Dad would still go on tour. He would still have school. Mom would still be Mom. Moving was only a big deal because they were making it a big deal. New is only new for so long and they would all carry on as normal.

"Ah, here we are!"

Gravel ground beneath the car as it pulled to a stop. His father threw the vehicle into park and his Mother scrambled out with an elated squeal. Jotaro ripped himself from his thoughts. The weren't in motion anymore. Just up ahead, the moving sat with the back open. Two men in uniform were working together to bring out various pieces of furniture. The young man stepped out of the car, stretched his legs and walked to the front.

It had been a while since he had seen it, really. Some details he remembered, like the brown tiled roof, white walls, dark wooden embellishments. The porch and front gate carried the air of antiquity that the old house had, though the whole thing was smaller in comparison. Yes, is stood two floors high instead of one, but the surface area seemed dwarfed overall. Meanwhile, other details caught his eye. They weren't quite the same way as before. The shrubbery just in front sprouted lavish and glossy leaves. Other trees looked much the same, some with flowers and others with needles. Beyond that, the small, open field just in front of the house sprouted wild flowers here and there. Fortunately, the wooden picnic table was still there. It would be good for Jotaro to sit out here if he ever needed to clear his head. Down the street still stood another house, grey and nestled in a puddle of shade. He could see little specks of white and red from a distance. Did their new neighbor keep flowers? Must be- he could almost smell them with the soft breeze flowing through the streets.

This was it. Furugyocho, Okayama prefecture. Their new home. Jotaro looked the building up and down. "What was wrong with our old house?"

"That's just it, Sweetie." Holly trotted around the car and to Jotaro's side, luggage in tow. "It was old. There were a lot of problems we couldn't fix. The wood was rotten, there was mold and bugs; One of us could have gotten sick or hurt if we stayed any longer. Now." She shoved a few bags in Jotaro's arms abruptly. "Help your Father unpack. You remember where your room is supposed to be?"

"Do you really need to ask, wom-"

"Great! I'll head inside and make sure everything is in order. Go see if your room's still ok."

The woman scampered off, long skirt swishing side to side, and raced inside with an almost mad cackle. Jotaro looked to his Father, who hefted and dragged the bags he could. He smiled and shrugged as though to say, "Sorry- You know she gets like that sometimes".

The inside was as bare as Jotaro remembered. He inhaled. The aroma of dust was starting to thin out and mingle with that of fresh air. Mother was already opening the windows. Half of them already had the blinds pulled up and Holly was fiddling with the locks. Warmly browned floorboards of the dining room lay neatly together, side by side, crowned by off white walls. With the electric lighting, they might have looked more cream colored. The young man heard footsteps behind him and turned to the side. A kotatsu was already being hauled in by the moving men Jotaro had seen before. Across the way, a paper door was visible. Even in a modern house like this, they had a tatami room? Jotaro heard more footsteps. Sadao was already going back for another load.

"Jotaro, go check out your room," he breathed as he passed by. "And come back for the rest when you're done."

Wow, two for two. If he hung around any longer, the movers would probably be giving him the same order. He muttered under his breath and walked across. He opened a door into a small hallway, strolled past the bathroom and proceeded up the narrow staircase. If he remembered correctly, There was his parent's room and the guest room ahead, while his was- _Ah, there it is._ Jotaro turned to the left and opened the first door he found.

Finally, he found his room, small and shaded. He dropped his luggage in the middle of the floor and went to open up the window facing the east. Funny- he already has his own alarm if the sun would rise through here. The closet sat not too far off. Upon inspection, he decided that it would be enough room for storage. Tiny clicks and scratches fluttered within the walls, it seemed. The movers must have still been at it. So would his Mother and Father. Jotaro gave a soft hum. At least this place wouldn't feel so alone and empty. He still didn't think moving to a new town was a big deal, but he quietly appreciated the little things.

He headed towards the stairs once more. The sooner they got all this done, the better.

~JJBA~

Unpacking everything was nowhere near as arduous as the clean up. Not only did the sweeping, washing and scrubbing last at least 5 times longer, it had been made 10 times more annoying, if all for the fact that his mother scolded him for not removing his shoes. They stayed up late into the night. Holly said that she knew Jotaro lied to stay up late anyways and that they should finished what they could before school the next day. Sadao wanted to get in all the time he could before leaving for his next tour. The smart ass even played _Soran Bushi_ with his own jazzy spin on it, saying he "needed to practice" (though stomping his foot as a replacement for the drum was a nice touch). Jotaro turned in at around. . . midnight, most likely. Holly had to lead her husband up the stairs to bed, mumbling with his saxophone case swinging in his loose grip.

The young man tossed and turned. He couldn't quite sleep. Maybe it was the looming threat of having to introduce himself at school tomorrow. Maybe it was all the little creaks and scrapes that still thrummed through the house or all the strange barks and buzzles from outside. Maybe he just _knew_ something was off about tonight. It couldn't have been a big deal. He just settled on getting a glass of water and trying to get back to sleep. Whether it was one or two in the morning, he wasn't sure.

Jotaro didn't mean to pass by his parents' bedroom. He certainly didn't mean to eavesdrop.

"I don. . . out Jotar. . ."

"Oh, come n. . . just how he. . ."

Jotaro held his breath. He pressed himself against the wall and leaned in. Were they talking about him? The tone of voice certainly didn't sound like a good sign. The door hadn't been shut all the way. Shadows passed through the light of an overhead light. The young man strained to listen. What were they doing up so late?

"Holly," sighed his father. "Did you see him on the car ride here? He hardly said a word, all he wanted to do was stare out the window. . . It was like he didn't even care that we moved."

"Dear, it's alright." There was the soft "pat" of a futon being rolled out as his mother defended him. "You know how these things go. He's a senior now, and he's a tough young man. Of course he's not going to be the same as when you last saw him."

"I know, he's not. That's the disturbing part. I hardly recognize him anymore." There was a pause. "I remember playing catch with him. How he would show off his tests and the awards from his track meets on Sundays. And every time. . . even if I was gone for weeks at a time, there was always this _light_ in his eyes. He was always so happy. But now it's just _gone_."

Jotaro leaned in.

"Is. . . is it my fault?"

It was at about that time that Jotaro decided to rip himself away from the conversation. The fact of the matter was that his Father was making a big deal out of things again. Maybe it didn't happen as often as it did with his Mother, but when it did it was usually something like this. Sadao was a suspicious man. He doubted small details like something as simple as "It's ok" could be taken somewhere so dark and so sinister. What Jotaro heard that night was not the usual guilt as skipping a Sunday, but it was not his place to meddle. He had decided he had heard enough and padded to his room, cold water glass in hand.

A moment later, he had already downed the contents and curled back up in his futon. The room was warm. The early spring night outside cooled down. Out the window the sky hung black and fogged. Back at the old house, it was easier to see the stars. Cool nights back there were perfect for an illicit cigarette. Dogs barked. Vehicles roared past. A train gave a long, lonely whine in the distance. The glow of faraway city lights pulsed faintly past the bottom of the window pane.

. . . This really wouldn't be the same thing as home.

Sleep didn't come to him easily. Jotaro stared up at the ceiling with the feeling of watchful eyes crawling up his spine and neck. But he did sleep eventually, with the resolve that yes, he would try to make something of this move.

~JJBA~

Yup, that's the first part. I'm going to try for a slower pace to this one, see how it goes.


	2. Part 2

Yay, we're still chugging along! Enjoy~!

Part 2

"The name's Kujo Jotaro. It's nice to meet you."

Yes, it was humiliating. This was one of the last situations Jotaro wanted to be in, standing in front of the room with his name written on the board like a grade schooler. Hell, it even looked like a grade school with the rows of seats lined up neat, rows of windows on both sides of the room and white walls. Only one sat empty: Second row from the back, up against the window opening up to the courtyard. The sea of students staring at him undulated with whispers and various emotions. Those in the two back rows turned to each other to share opinions. In the front, Jotaro was met with nothing but pale, abject terror. Girls were already congregating and organizing their attacks. Next to him stood the teacher in her red skirt suit, eyeshadow and brown, flat ironed hair. What was her name? Tan'nin-sensei would have to do until he figured it out again.

"Alrighty!" The woman clapped her hands and chimed in an almost ear grating squeak. "Everyone be nice to your new classmate, ok? I know it's your senior year and all, but I still expect-"

Good grief. This was the kind of thing that wasted valuable class time. Yeah, maybe Jotaro was the last person to be complaining about valuable class time, but this woman should also be the last person to be wasting it. The young man stepped down and walked down the row towards the vacant desk.

"H-Hey!" The woman startled and slammed her hands on the small desk up at the front. "I didn't give you a seat yet!"

Jotaro stopped and tossed a look back to the teacher. "There's only one empty seat here."

She scowled. "Kujo-kun, I didn't say you could sit down. Please return to the front."

"Hm." He pulled down gently on the lip of his hat. "I see. There must be another empty seat I missed just now. Please," He gestured towards the rest of the room. "Show me where this other seat is. It's my first time here- I'll probably get lost in this new school."

There was no reply. The teacher's face flushed bright red. She turned to the board and wiped it clean. "T-take out your textbooks and turn to page 27."

Jotaro took his spot by the window and did just that. If any of his classmates were gossiping or grasping to come to terms with what had just happened (Which they most likely were), he didn't give a damn.

~JJBA~

Well, whadaya know? A teacher who doesn't talk big.

A few hours passed since the incident. First it was homeroom, then math. The man at the front teaching biology, aged to his more golden years, spoke softly with a magnetic passion for what he taught. Jotaro watched out the window and let the words wash over him. This was a preferable situation to be in.

~JJBA~

Part of the reason Jotaro ate lunch by himself that first day was that his mother insisted on packing him one. And that was something he didn't quite want to parade around to everyone.

More importantly, however, he could observe. Simply put, meeting people was easier when done from a distance. Jotaro was an odd element and with him out of the picture, people would show their true selves more willingly. The young man chose a thin, pointed pine tree to watch from, absentmindedly munching on a piece of beef from lunch. Everyone else had congregated beneath the shade of a tree large enough to rival the African baobab. Some of the girls huddled by the neatly trimmed flower bushes. A small group of boys arrived late, apparently having gone to buy bread. A greater commotion began. From the looks of things, it was another opportunity for the upperclassmen to tease the first years.

Eventually everyone took their seats. Jotaro popped a rice ball in his mouth and picked the students out one by one.

The girls, of course, were all the same. Chatty, excessive, expressive. Some fanned themselves with their hands and others blushed. A couple had mirrors in case of "emergencies". Almost all of them gossipped. Maybe only one of them seemed the least big agreeable: A girl with long hair, glasses, and her nose buried in a book while she snacked on hard boiled eggs from a plastic container.

Maybe Jotaro had a softer spot for the boys, or could at least sympathise with them better. Only a few were boisterous to the extent of annoyance. The majority chattered or stuffed their faces. One of them, a svelte student with brown eyes and a mole on his cheek, seemed to really enjoy his curry bun. Another one with a sly smile and shifty gaze had smuggled a copy of some kind of booklet to enjoy his lunch with. A moment later, Jotaro found that that wasn't quite the case. An exchange was made: The booklet for a handful of yen. In a second, he was on his feet and running back towards the school. Did he sell it for lunch money? Jotaro didn't know whether to think he was pathetic or admirable for getting a head start on his career as a pink collar worker. As for the recipient, he too smuggled the book away. . . down the back of his shirt of all things. All the while Jotaro earned sideways glances from the other classmates, some with fear and others with contempt.

Another plus of making friends from a distance: You can spot the weirdos before getting too close to them.

" _Yare yare. . ."_ He went after another piece of beef. Maybe it was best to keep to himself after all.

~JJBA~

What else was there to say about his first day? It was dull and slow. What's more, Tan'nin-Sensei essentially tattled on him and stuck with with after school clean-up. _"Think of it as a chance to get to know the place a little better,"_ she had said. _"That way you won't get lost in this new school. I think a little practice in teamwork would do you good as well, Kujo-kun."_

Despite this, Jotaro pushed the broom back and forth through the classroom. One more student smacked chalk erasers together and another wiped down the windows. The floor had already been wiped down. Many hands made light work, but griping wouldn't quite help with that. Complaining didn't get people off your back or make work loads any lighter. It didn't bring Dad back home. It didn't undo accidents. Jotaro let the thoughts slide by and went back to sweeping the floor.

~JJBA~

He could hear it before he turned into the street where the house stood. And he was not looking forward to it.

Simply put, Holly had caught the neighbor's attention. Fortunately, her husband was there to make sure things didn't get out of hand. The neighbor kept flowers. They could have been a quiet, elderly lady. Maybe the could have come over for a normal welcome visit, she could have baked cookies. But Jotaro could hear the neighbor from way farther than he would hear any old lady. Instead they get some man with an outrageous hairstyle, strange clothes and more cleavage than any sane man should have. A boston terrier stood on all fours by the man's feet, looking up. In his muscular arms, he presented a flower pot from which sprouted a magnificent contrast of bright red flowers and dark green leaves. Holly shook her head and waved her hands as if to refuse. The neighbor insisted. Jotaro walked to make sure he wasn't getting too close or causing trouble, only have Holly accept the flowers. "Well, they are beautiful," she chuckled. "Thank you, but you didn't have to go through all the trouble. . ."

"Nonsense!" The man shrugged innocently. Earrings dangled from his lobes, each ending in one half of a broken heart. The hair had been gelled up into a grey plateau and he wore a black shirt with only one strap to hold it all up by. "No other flower would have sufficed. It's an Anthurium flower. Tailflower, if you prefer. It's a symbol of hospitality and happiness- I can't think of a better way to welcome the new neighbors." He grinned to himself and adjusted the strap of his shirt. "Grew them myself, after all."

Ok, they were distracted. If Jotaro played his cards right, he might be able to sneak past-

"Hey, Jotaro! C'mon over, say hi to the new neighbor!"

. . . _Yare yare._ Didn't even get to the gravel pit. Now for _more_ introductions. He sheepishly made his way towards the gathering. The dog glanced his way, unimpressed. Mother sniffed the flowers in her arms.

Sadao was the first to speak. "Mr. Polnareff, this is our son, Jotaro. Jotaro, this is Mr. Jean Polnareff. He owns a flower shop in the area and has actually lived in Japan for quite some time."

"Hey now, three years isn't that long," the man protested. "I'm lucky these guys still want me around! It's all still so different from France- It's a wonder people here still put up with me!"

So he came from France. Why he picked Japan of all places, Jotaro wasn't sure. Japanese wasn't half bad, though. The move must have been planned.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't keep you." The man checked around the dog. "You probably have other things to take care of. Here:" Polnareff took out a business card from the back pocket and a pen. He scribbled on the back. "I have a work phone and a home phone. If you can't reach me with one, try the other. I'd be happy to help in whatever way you need."

The husband and wife gave their thank you's and left as politely as they could. The chatter about where to put the flowers began. Jotaro gave a brief wave and turned to-

"Oi, _jeune homme."_

Somehow, Jotaro knew that was refering to him. He looked back. The dog had curled up by the neighbor's feet. Polnareff wasn't quite as radiant or jovial as before. Grave serious creased his forehead. His blue eyes lost the light from before.

"I'd be careful if I were you." He kept his voice low. "You're not alone in that house of yours."

Jotaro raised an eyebrow. "Um. . . No, I'm not. I live here with my mother and-"

"That's not what I mean." The man shook a finger. "There aren't other some _ones_ in that house. There is a some _thing_."

A something? Jotaro stared back at the man.

"Huh?" He gestured towards the house and raised an eyebrow at Jotaro. "You don't know about it? I've been in that house before. I've heard all the little sounds it makes in the walls. And all my old friends said they felt like they were being watched. That's why none of them are around anymore- They all moved out."

Jotaro might have replied then, if not for the sudden barking. The boston terrier sprung to it's feet and ferociously barked not at him, but at the house behind him. Jotaro looked up. The flowers had already been set in a window on the second floor. A shaded figure stood behind them, most likely his father. The wind rocked the tree branches. With a sweep of the pine needles, the figure had completely disappeared.

"See? Iggy knows it's there."

Jotaro watched. The figure didn't return.

Pause.

Jotaro forced a chuckle. "Cute," he said. "You know you could just go back in the house if you don't like looking at me, right?"

"Hey, it's not like I'm making all this up because I feel like-"

"You talk too much. If you really insist on it, just grow a flower that keeps _yokai_ away."

And that was that. Jotaro walked back into the house to make better use of his time.

~JJBA~

Another day came to an end. Jotaro spent another night alone in his futon.

 _Scrtch, scrtch. . . . Scrtch, scrtch, scrtch. . . ._

The young man kept his eyes closed. He listened. It was a new house. The old one was like this, making a more unsettling racket of moans and clacks. This was no different. That weirdo with the earrings and hairstyle said something about this, right?

 _Clck, clck, clck. . ._

 _"You don't know about it? I've been in that house before. I've heard all the little sounds it makes in the walls."_

 _Scrtch, scrtch. . . . Clck, clck, clck. . ._

 _"And all my old friends said they felt like they were being watched. That's why none of them are around anymore- They all moved out."_

Jotaro cracked an eye open and looked around the room. Boxes lay unpacked against the far corner of the room. The window had been left unblinded again. Moon light streamed in and left a four squared pattern on the floor. The closet had been left open only a crack. Other than this most everything was in order. The room was empty, silent. Only Jotaro took occupancy.

Barking shot through the darkness. It was faint, muffled, but it undeniably belonged to the terrier he saw earlier that day. The air became cold. The young man could hear footsteps coming up the steps. He shut his eyes again.

 _"See? Iggy knows it's there."_

 _Creak. . . ._

He didn't hear his door open. Jotaro lay absolutely still, feigning sleep. Yet something rolled through the air in his bedroom. An incisive chill bit at his face and pierced the futon. He was not alone in his room.

 _Creak. . . ._

Chatter teased the eardrums. It could have been the whispers of his parents again, but a heavy snore two walls over told him otherwise. A strange smell drifted through the air. Jotaro didn't dare try to find out what it was, but was certainly nothing that came from his room before. Pure cringe scurried up his spine and into his shoulder blades and neck. Sweat broke out on his forehead. His stomach churned and recoiled.

 _Creak. . . ._

The presence hovered densely next to him. He could feel it. He didn't dare budge. The chatter grew more quick and intense, but no more coherent. Jotaro felt a pair of eyes on him. Boring into him, driving his heart into his throat and paralyzing him. The presence reached a hand out, slowly moving closer and closer. Adrenaline tore through Jotaro's body. His head pounded. His throat closed up. He couldn't move. He couldn't run. He couldn't hide.

Fingertips brushed against his adam's apple. A hand closed around his jugular.

Jotaro ripped himself out of bed and sprung to his feet, gulping in air like a starved man. The air was not cold. It was quiet. He was simply alone in his bedroom, perhaps after a bad dream.

He didn't fall asleep until an hour later, and even then, he did so lightly.

~JJBA~

So yeah. Polnareff owns a flower shop. Sorry, not sorry. :D

Thanks for sticking around. I'll get started on part 3 here in a bit. Leave a review, let me know if you like the slower pace and whatnot. I look forward to it. :)


	3. Part 3

I've been listening to the same two versions of _Soran Bushi_ for the past few days now. On loop. And I still love it. :D

And hey! Thanks for the favorites and follows thus far. It was kind of discouraging to not get much feedback at first, but seeing your support made me feel better. I'll to my best to put out something good for ya! :)

Anyways, please continue. I don't mind~

Part 3

Two nights in a row with shitty sleep. This did not bode well. And worst of all, his father was there to witness it.

"Woah, son." The two met outside of the bathroom. It had to have been six or seven in the morning. Jotaro had been up since four, holed up in his room. Just one floor below, the clatter of cooking equipment had begun not long ago. The smell of food drifted down the hallway. "You're not looking so hot. You feeling alright?"

Jotaro stopped and caught a look at his father's expression, disheveled and creased with concern. ". . . Couldn't sleep." The younger couldn't really come up with anything else. He still wasn't sure what happened the prior night was real or if it was just a nightmare. Hell, the fact that he was _dreaming_ again was more probably than whatever the neighbor had suggested. It certainly sounded real. It certainly _felt_ real. Whatever it was, the young man was already suffering consequences he wasn't prepared for. Quite frankly, whether or not those consequences were even earned was a confusing matter to begin with.

"Huh." The man frowned. "Still getting used to the house?"

Jotaro grunted and stifled a yawn and allowed the man to talk for him. Simply put, conversation was easier that way.

"Need some time to wake up?"

A weary hum.

"Alright, alright." Finally, he was dropping the subject. "I'll see if I can help your mother with breakfast."

Jotaro nodded. Breakfast sounded good. Holly liked to mix it up between American and Japanese. Judging from the aroma of fresh rice and fish, she had gone with the latter. Chances are she'd want to put leftovers in with lunch for whoever would take it.

He heard his father snicker. Jotaro glared over his shoulder. "Something funny?"

"N-no, no, it's just,-." The man giggled again. "You still wear your hat to bed?"

The younger man pulled the lip down. "Shut up. I'm getting cleaned up."

Sadao leaned against the wall, laughing (as if he were completely innocent, wearing those goofy, tie dye pajama pants from overseas). Jotaro ducked into the bathroom before anything else could be said about the hat. He grit his teeth and clenched the fabric of his cap, leaning up against the closed door.

Bring up the hat once and that's one time too many. For the sake of his Mother and his Father, he didn't stay on that train of conversation.

~JJBA~

Clean up was quiet. Breakfast was as well, aside from the usual conversation. Jotaro, already dressed in his uniform, took his time waking up and listened to his mother and father chatter from their seats at the table. The latter would complement the coffee. The former would ask if they made breakfast right and what the plans were for that day. When his mother wasn't looking, his father would scoop his natto beans into Jotaro's bowl (The poor man couldn't bare to tell her he didn't like them). And at some point, just because he could, he would serenade her with some cheesy flirting attempt. She would gush right on cue. It was ridiculous in a way. Jotaro used to tell them to knock it off and that they looked silly, especially in public. More than once this routine had played out. Some looked. Others pointed and laughed. Bringing it up never worked, so Jotaro quit trying. Whenever Holly and Sadao were together, it was likely you'd see some of the most old-fashioned, corny, and absolutely goofy expressions of love you'd see between two people. What's more, they had this hulking _bancho_ teenage son that just ruined the entire picture.

Big, tough guy like Jotaro seated at the table for breakfast with his family? It was an uncanny sight to say the least. But they were together. Not everyone could say the same.

Jotaro took a mouthful of beans in his chopsticks, but stopped when he heard it.

 _Scrtch, scrtch. . . Clck, clck, clck. . ._

It was back. Jotaro strained his ears. Where was it coming from? Behind? To the left or right? Above? The young man sniffed the air. That smell wasn't around. Neither Sadao or Holly seemed to notice. Arguing over who was going to get extra coffee for the other seemed to be more important.

The fact of the matter still stood: They weren't alone in this house. Jotaro's family could be in danger. "Oi."

The two went silent.

"You guys hear that?"

Holly tilted her head. "Hear what?"

"Those sounds." Jotaro made a circling motion. Sadao took advantage of the distraction, slyly reached for Holly's mug and slunked away to the coffee pot. "Those little scratches in the walls. Do you ever hear them?"

The woman knit her brows. "Never. You much have more sensitive hearing than I do."

"It's probably nothing anyways." Her husband returned with two cups of fresh coffee, one half full and the other filled to the brim. He gave her the greater quantity without a second thought. "Could be the trees outside, could be a stray cat. Can't hurt us, at least I don't think."

 _Scrtch, scrtch. . . Clck, clck, clck. . ._

Holly had just noticed the mug. She pouted at Sadao, who smiled innocently. No knew it was there. Jotaro looked down at his food: A half eaten portion of cooked fish, natto and steamed rice.

 _Scrtch, scrtch. . . Clck, clck, clck. . ._

Suddenly he didn't really want to eat any of it.

Right on cue, every muscle in his stomach seized up and hardened painfully. Jotaro felt sick all of a sudden. He screwed his eyes shut and turned his head away, leaning on the edge of the table. This wasn't good. This was the opposite of good. And as if to add insult to injury, Sadao was the first to notice. Holly stared back at her son expectantly, almost knowingly.

"Jotaro?" The man stood up from his seat. Using first names like that was rare for him, reserved for situations he deemed grave. "Hey, are you feeling alright?"

"'M fine," he grunted. "I'll be right back." He left the table before anyone could stop him. Fortunately, the wash room was close by. Jotaro dove in and shut the door behind him. His stomach throbbed once more and the pain escalated into a soundless, persistent wail. It almost hurt to breathe. Jotaro kept the pattern slow, shallow and controlled. There was no way he could sneak a cigarette in. He left the little case in his bookbag back in his room. He fumbled beneath the sink for a spare wash cloth. Sure enough, he found one (good thing they had unpacked this much). Jotaro ran cold water on the fabric, rang it out and smoothed it out on the back of his neck. Yes, this would do, at least for now. He dabbed the rag along his forehead. This was how he was able to deal with it in the beginning. It wasn't enough, but it was something.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror. 195 centimeters tall. Over 80 kilograms in weight. Otherwise formidable and menacing. No other visible symptoms presented themselves- No fevered flush, no shaking, no vomiting. Jotaro didn't even look the least bit tired or pale, at least according to the reflection. To the average person, he'd look completely fine. They might assume that he was just bitching about some menstrual cramps or whatever.

Pathetic.

There was a soft knock on the door. "You alright in there, sweetie?"

Jotaro whipped his head towards the door. Of course. Holly. The stomach ache seemed to weaken at the sound of her voice. "I'm fine," he huffed, keeping his voice low. "It's just the usual. I'll be fine in a little bit."

"You got your medicine?"

"No. . ."

Silence. Jotaro heard her footsteps pad away and fade. He hung his head and kept the rag on his neck. A moment later, there was another knock on the door. Holly didn't bother to wait- she opened the door and held out a small, white bottle. Jotaro glared at it. Of course she would bring those. When he didn't take the the container, Holly pulled it back. A plastic cap popped on the other side. Holly held her hand out again. Two bright orange tablets sat innocently in the palm of her hand. Jotaro grit his teeth. She wasn't going to leave until he took them. Jotaro swiped the tablets and swallowed them bitterly. He felt another stab of pain, as though his body were immediately rejecting what was supposed to help him. There was no point in taking these, but it was the only option he had for the moment.

The hand disappeared and the door shut silently. Footsteps creaked away. Jotaro took slow breaths and kept the rag to the back of his neck. Eventually he stepped out, cleaned up his dishes and hurried out the door. By that point, the side effects were already settling in. It was a wonder he didn't let anything betray his otherwise healthy demeanor.

~JJBA~

He was better off alone, of you couldn't already tell. And in his eyes, there wasn't necessarily anything wrong with that.

Things were quiet and simple when he was alone. Nothing was rushed when he was alone. In the tepid confines of his room, whether it was the old house or the new house, or even somewhere completely unrelated, he was free. The time spent and it's consequences fell on him and him alone. If he had to, Jotaro could wait out the head- and stomach aches as long as he needed. Since there was no one around, he could open up a window and enjoy a cigarette without being caught (He simply had to make sure the smell wouldn't stick to anything). And without teachers or other classmates up his ass about the school work, any contempt he had for the material wasn't as potent. Something about sitting cross legged with a biology book open and the window open made it a better environment than any classroom. Jotaro wasn't the studious type, let alone the type who read books for fun, but that. . . well, he couldn't quite find the right words for it. But it was good in one way or another.

Jotaro took a whiff of the fresh, earthy air. He let the ambient sounds of the park he found wash over him. The sideways glances of visitors didn't bother him in the least. Jotaro kept his eyes closed and leaned back on the bench he had secured for himself, leaving the class materials safe in his bookbag. The side effects had already kicked in. If he stood up now, he wouldn't be able to keep that position. If he even tried to open his eyes, the blurred environment would swallow him whole and refuse to spit him back out. Jotaro took another draw from his cigarette. Nicotine coursed through him and stilled his nerves like a lazy river. At least those helped. His first one came from his Great Grandma Lisa. He choked on the smoke, of course. After a few more he was hooked, but used them like food rations. And, in all honesty, they worked well for him, better than the pills that were more or less acceptable. Just a breath or two and the aches would subside, no matter how strong. No one else knew, and that was perfectly fine. Preferable, even.

Birds twittered softly. The aromas of all sorts of flowers and buds sprinkled throughout the air. Sunlight streamed all around, warm and bright. Jotaro wondered idly what his mother would say if she caught him smoking. Not only that, he ditched his second day of school for a visit to a park he didn't even know the name of. Hell, he wasn't even entirely sure how to get back home at the moment. But he didn't give a damn.

Jotaro took another puff, savoring the warmth in his lungs and quickly taking a breath of fresh air to cool it all down. Hey, just because it didn't come in a bottle didn't mean it wasn't medicine.

~JJBA~

A sharp sound cut through the house when he finally returned home. Jotaro stopped, door still part way open. He listened. It was a foreign sound at first, but a moment later he realized that it was Sadao raising his voice at. . . something. Or someone. Jotaro wasn't sure. It was a rare instance. The young man, in all his years alive on this earth, had only seen his father really angry once or twice. Was Jotaro bearing witness to the third? He kept his steps light and made his way past the kitchen.

"Sasuke, you can't just. . . Yes, yes. I know you told me that, but. . ."

Holly had the same idea. Leaned up against the hallway, opposite to the kitchen, she hid and listened, eyes trained on the wall as though she could see through it.

"No, I. . . I'm sorry. I know it's a great opportunity and all. I appreciate it, but. . ."

Jotaro passed the opening of the kitchen and made it. His father stood alone, head hanging down, held in place by the cord of the landline phone. He didn't notice either of them. The young man hid behind he wall with his mother. Holly placed a finger over his lips as a signal to her son. _Quiet._ She tapped the lobe of her ear, then pointed towards her husband. _Listen._

"I'm sorry." The man sighed and curled in on himself a little tighter, suddenly looking smaller than usual. "I just thought I would have more time."

The woman gave another signal, shooing Jotaro away. _Up to your room,_ or something like that. He nodded and proceeded up the staircase. The routine from here on out would be the same as always: wait for Sadao to break the inevitable news and pretend that they are hearing it for the first time.

"No, it's fine. I'll go. I have until tomorrow, right? I'll be able to book a flight. Yes. . . yes, thank you. I'll see you then. Bye."

~JJBA~

"Holly, Jotaro. . . I'm sorry. I let you both down."

Sadao had given them both the story. His agent booked him another tour, stretching from Hong Kong to Cairo. The man would be gone for quite some time and he was only prolonging the inevitable. His bags were packed. They were able to call a taxi to take him to the airport. Sadao stood completely still, fists at his side like a child in time out. Even when the taxi driver honked his horn, the musician didn't budge an inch. Jotaro rolled his eyes. This would pass. After a few days, he would be back to his old jovial self and flooding their mailbox with letters and postcards.

"Oh, c'mon." Holly took her husband in her arms, who instinctively hugged back. "You're living the dream here! Not everyone gets to do this with their lives. You didn't let us down- We're proud of you that you made it this far. We'll still be here when you get back, ok?"

Silence. Sadao buried his head further into the crook of Holly's neck.

"Hey, it's not like you're going away for forever." The woman shot Jotaro a begging smile, as if to ask for help. Jotaro shrugged. Not like he had anything that could convince him to go. The woman continued. "You can still call or send us those postcards you love so much. And maybe you can take some pictures! It'll be like we're right there with you." She rubbed small circles between his shoulder blades. "And when you perform, we'll be rooting for you the whole way. So don't be sad, alright? Just do your best."

Jotaro saw his Sadao's grip shift just a bit. Maybe his grip on Holly loosened- he wasn't sure.

"So please, don't stress yourself over this. Don't feel bad for reaching your dreams. Go before you miss your flight."

". . . You're right." Sadao broke away and stood with a strong posture. With those words, his seemed to flip around completely. He was serious, yes, but not nearly as upset as before. "I'll do my best and get back as soon as I can." He turned to look at his son. "Jotaro, be good to your mother while I'm gone."

"Of course," came the reply.

Sadao wasn't done just yet. The adam's apple in his throat bobbed as though he had more to say. He didn't, settling on one final embrace before he would have to leave. Holly accepted it. Jotaro sighed and joined in, wrapping his muscular arms around his parents. Hopefully the neighbor wasn't watching.

But he had to do something, right? This was protocol- This is what you do if you're not going to see someone for a long time.

The three broke away and Sadao picked up his bags. He started towards the taxi as the driver honked again. "Thanks!" Sadao waved, despite being only a few feet away and holding a carryon bag. "I'll tell you everything however way I can!"

"Alright!" Holly returned the gesture. Jotaro joined in, though not to such an exaggerated degree. "Go eat some mantou and tell me how it is! I've always wanted to try it!"

The man actually laughed. He took his bags in the back with him and shut the door. With that, the car drove off. The remaining two kept waiting and waving until it had completely disappeared around the curb. Jotaro broke the silence. "Just how long are we going to keep this from him?"

"You know he can't know, Sweetie," came the reply. "He already gets so little time with us and he has his tours. He doesn't need to worry about anything else."

". . . We didn't just move because the house was old, did we?"

Holly looked to her son.

"We moved into something cheaper so we could afford everything else."

She paused. The woman turned back to the house. "C'mon, Jotaro. Since your father's gone we can schedule your appointment. I think you're overdue for one."

~JJBA~

I wonder if doing this to Jotaro puts him out of his character or not. Putting a supernatural element like Hamon or Stands can make anyone strong in JJBA, so I guess an element like this can make anyone weak in JJBA. Hopefully it turns out interesting. It's been a theory/headcanon of mine anyways.

Leave a review and tell me what you think. In the meantime, I'll be chugging along on part 4. See you all then!


	4. Error: Foreign Element

. . .

. . . _. ._ _._

Y _ou_ _. ._ _._

YoU inTRudE _rs. ._ _._ thREe dayS Yo _u ha_ VE sqU _aT_ ted HEre. TH _at'_ s thReE daY _s T_ Oo lOng.

THE ma _N I_ s goNe. I k _N_ _O_ w hE W _I_ _ll b_ E bACk.

The WO _m_ _a_ n se _E_ _m_ S sWE _e_ t, bUt T _hER_ E is Mo _R_ e tO Her. ShE _iS mOSt_ dEfINIteLy I _N G_ Oo _d hEa_ lTH. SH _e'_ _Ll_ pUt _uP a _ F _Ig_ Ht _A_ Nd dO a _N_ Yt _HiNg F_ Or hE _r F_ AMiLy.

Bu _t Yo_ U, JoTAro KUjo. . .

YOu DOn't F _o_ _O_ l Me. I k _N_ _Ow_ Y Ou'R _e t_ He wEAKe _sT oN_ E h _ER_ e.

I _kNO_ _W_ You ARe _trAPp_ Ed. T _RaPP_ ed iN Yo _U_ _r o_ WN bOD _y_ _, tRA_ pPed IN yOUr oWN _M IN_d.

You cANNot C _Ry fO_ R hEL _p. M_ Y tESt _pROV_ eS tHat.

I cA _N SlIC_ E _Yo_ _u_ uP. i cAn _dRO_ w _N yO_ u. I CAn _hA_ _N_ _g Y_ ou uP _A_ _N_ D W _aTC_ h You _grOvE_ l.

AND t _H_ _En_ I'Ll sIMpLy tA _kE_ _w_ H _At y_ OU'rE no _L_ _onG_ ER U _sIN_ G.

NOW, hoW T _o sT_ ARt. _. . ?_

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. . .

aH, I k _NO_ w!

I'LL le _AV_ e tHiS HE _re_ , jUSt For _YO_ u. . .

AND B _y tH_ e tiME y _Ou RE_ _Al_ iZe iT, It _wIL_ l BE tOo LAtE.

. _._ _._

J _Ojo_. . .

Y _OU wI_ _l_ l REgrEt eVEr cO _mI_ _N_ g hErE. . .


	5. Part 4

Alright, part 4. Long one, here.

First off, I want to thank Generic User for the review. Words can't describe how thankful I am. It really lifted my spirits, not only that my work got finally got a review, but that it seems that readers have not figured out who or what the threat is, whether it's Jotaro's ailment or the thing living in the house. It's also a very different writing style for me, as I usually get the story over with quick. By contrast, I'm trying to make it slower and stretch it out this time. I seem to be covering my tracks rather well, but I also hope that the pieces fit together when the truth is finally revealed.

Also, my dumb ass got the time of year wrong. This was supposed to take place at the beginning of the school year, but it's different in Japan. I started it in fall like in the US, when the Japanese school year starts in April and, therefore, spring. I guess I have to be on the lookout for when Golden Week starts, too. Feel free to point out anything I need to edit. It really helps, especially since I had to go back and fix 3 out of the 4 chapters and might have missed stuff.

I'll keep on doing my best. Have some more Polnareff and scary things in the meantime. Hopefully it's actually good.

Part 4

The first postcard came a few days later.

From the airport.

It was clear that Sadao had just picked the first one he saw just so he could send his family something. First off, Jotaro and Holly recognized the card immediately as one they had seen in other airport stores before: Waves crashing over long boats in a medieval art style. Secondly, Sadao's handwriting swept all across, filling every nook and cranny on the back possible. It was hard to make out, being written in haste, but after some inspection, it became legible.

 _Holly and Jotaro,_ it began. _I've made it safe to the airport. By the time you get this, I'll probably have been on the plane for a while. I wanted to send this to you because my tour does not, in fact, being in Hong Kong. It begins with home and the family who stood by me no matter what. It begins with the loving wife and son who have supported me, even when it meant we had to be far away from each other._

By that point, the woman was already fanning her eyes and blinking the tears away. Jotaro kept reading out loud.

 _A lot of interesting things have already happened, actually. I saw something funny and it made me think of you guys. A woman and a man, complete strangers, sat next to each other. While waiting for their flight. I saw them by the same package of cookies. The man left his out, but the woman put her's in her bag. Eventually she started to eat the cookies from the man's package. She forgot that she already bought her own and probably thought he took hers! The kept going, each taking one until the package was empty. And she had this look on her face like he was taking her cookies! I wonder when she will realize that she had her's all along. . ._

 _And there were so many different people beyond that. Most of them were Japanese, but I think I saw someone from the middle east! You should have seen him! Skin as dark as the earth, hair tied up in all these tiny buns with one long black strand trailing behind, these marks beneath his eyes, all these magnificent red robes and a strange, bulky necklace- I wish I could have talked to him and found out more about where he came from. Maybe I'll see more people like him on this tour. He looked kind of scary at first, but maybe he was actually a nice person._

Jotaro squinted at the card. The writing was scrunching up tighter and tighter.

 _I have to stop here, I think. I'm running out of room and time. The plane will touch down in Hong Kong. After that, I go to Singapore. Maybe I'll have to stop at Shenzhen along the way- they've been helping China get stronger and stronger after that crash. I'll send you guys something._

 _My flight leaves soon. I have to go. I can't wait to see you both again. My happiest dreams will do for now. Be good. Do your best and I will, too. I love you both so much._

 _Sincerely, Sadao Kujo_

"Isn't he just the sweetest?" Holly swept a finger tip in the corner of her eye. "He never forgets us, no matter the distance."

"Such devotion!" Another man bit into his handkerchief to keep his composure. His voice cracked anyways and tears threatened to fall. "Most men who up and leave like that are total deadbeats. But that man's not even my father and I can feel his love through the writing! Like an apricot blossom that blooms even in the harshest of winters!"

Jotaro had already had enough. He just wanted tell them both to shut up so he could go back in the house. It was always like this. Jotaro could hardly tell his father left when he did, for how often home was empty and how many packages and letters he sent. Hell, this one was probably a repeat of one he sent before. There was no need to drag the neighbor out just to show him.

And yet Polnareff, a grown ass man who owned a flower shop, was about to bawl his eyes out over a postcard from a guy he wasn't even related to. Jotaro rolled his eyes.

"Tell me." The man smeared at his eyes. "Does it get lonely? I don't mean to intrude, but how often does he go on these tours?"

"Oh, he works quite a bit," Holly replied. "Doesn't always come home on Sundays like he used to. But he always calls and writes whenever he can- it's not that bad, really."

The young man would have just left them right then and there. He deciphered his father's horrid handwriting for them; he was no longer needed. But then he saw Polnareff's next actions, saw the brief flash of _Eureka!_ across his features. It started off with a seemingly innocent reciprocation of sympathy. But this was from a most likely single bachelor. Moreover, the husband was gone. This spelled bad news no matter how Jotaro looked at it.

"I don't know." The frenchman went back to his remorseful self, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck. "I kinda feel for you. It's just me and Iggy at the shop and, to be honest, he's kind of a little shit. People come by every now and again. And it's nice for a while. But it feels so sad and empty; No one really seems to want to stay."

Holly went on to apologize. She groveled and bowed, saying that it was selfish to rant about her problems when other people had it just as bad or worse. And that man- that sly, plotting reptile- played right along. He put his hands up defensively with this frantic "Non, non, non". He wasn't trying to make anyone feel bad- no, not at all! He simply shared the sentiment and it was ok, that's all! Watching it all was sickening, but Jotaro couldn't leave now.

That man was waiting. Waiting to make his move.

And the move didn't even come in the form of some sly smirk or even an arm around the shoulder, sliding down to the hip. But no! Oh, no! This scum had the audacity to take both of Holly's hands in his own with the biggest, shit-eating grin Jotaro had ever laid eyes on. That was it. The young man didn't hesitate. Within seconds, Polnareff was thrown to the ground where he belonged, hands pinned behind his back and faced pressed into the dirt.

"Jotaro!" Holly brought her hands to her face, horrified.

"Ow, ow, ow!" He tried to squirm away. "What the hell's your problem!?"

"Try to hit on my mom again and you'll walk away with something broken."

"Try to- _Non, non_!" The man looked flabbergasted. " _Mon Dieu_ , I was going to offer her a job at the shop! You think I'd try to sweep a married woman off her feet?!"

"Jotaro, please let go of him!" The woman pulled on Jotaro's arms. "He wasn't trying to hit on me!"

The young man scowled. "The language was awfully suggestive." Reluctantly, he released Polnareff.

"Hmph." With an angry dusting and bitter french under his breath, the neighbor was on his feet again. "I'm glad I wanted to hire you and not your son. Customers would like to be greeted by a sweet maiden such as you. Not this. . ." He wrinkled his nose, picking his words, "Uncouth scoundrel."

"No, it's not his fault. Really." She shooed her son away and went back to apologizing to the shop owner. "He's just been irritable lately."

Oh, great. Now she was defending him. "Mom, please-"

"He hasn't gotten a decent night's sleep since we moved here." She kept going. The neighbor raised an eyebrow and looked in the younger's direction, almost knowingly.

" _Mom_."

"I know it doesn't look like it, but he's a very sweet boy! He's just stressed, that's all."

" _Ugh_ , dammit woman." He turned to leave. "I'm going back in the house."

Jotaro left the two to talk, feeling uncomfortable. A headache gave its first foreboding gnaw. Something wasn't right about her defending him like that. Why did the hell did he even care? Maybe the woman was right; A nap would do him some good. He opened the door and stepped over the threshold. The young man paused. He listened.

. . .

. . . . . .

. . . . . . . . .

. . . Nothing.

Suspicious, to say the least. One night the thing went after his throat. The next few were completely quiet. No matter how long he stayed up, he couldn't catch it. Couldn't find it again. Hell, he couldn't sleep. Maybe he'd black out in the middle of the night or the middle of class, but it wouldn't last. Some obscure sound, some unrelated scuffle or voice would jolt him awake like it was the proof he had been gleaning for the whole time.

Not to mention the pain kept him up.

Jotaro made his way towards the bathroom as the headache became stronger and more steady. It sat in his right temple, stretched up his skull and behind the eye. Whether it was from lack of sleep or if it was another symptom, he wasn't entirely sure. Pain was pain all the same. Jotaro turned on the faucet to the sink and threw some water in his face. Hot, cold, it didn't matter. It couldn't take the ache away, but it was something. It was part of a routine. Patterns were just easy to fall into. They felt stable. They felt normal.

Jotaro turned to reach for a towel and did a double take. A handkerchief, embellished with green triangles around the border, sat innocently on the edge of the sink. This wasn't his. It wasn't Holly's as far as he knew, either. Judging from how neatly it was folded, not a wrinkle in sight, someone could have forgotten it there. Maybe it was Sadao's. Jotaro first saw it the day he left for Hong Kong. Strange. No one took care of it just yet and Sadao made no mention of it in the postcard. The young man shrugged, finished up and left the room, flopping face down on the living room couch the first chance he got. There was a long creak as he let himself sink into the cushions. This was good. If he ever knew a feeling he liked, it was this; Slowly drifting in and out of unconsciousness and feeling his body merge with the soft, abiotic structure beneath him. With every breath, Jotaro could feel himself sink deeper.

. . .

Maybe. . .

Maybe he could apologize to the neighbor. So his Mother didn't pester him about it later.

He just needed a nap first. Twenty minutes, tops.

Twenty minutes. . .

. . .

. . . . . .

 _Creak. . ._

Jotaro inhaled sharply. He did not stir otherwise. Was it here? Did it finally come out of hiding, just to make it's attack in the middle of the day?

 _Creak. . ._

He held his breath. He held still. The headache continued to pulse, but Jotaro felt fine otherwise. No sweating, no immobility, no other pain, nothing.

He could strike. He could fight back.

 _Creak. . ._

Judging from the sound, the thing was still close to the door.

 _Creak. . ._

And making it's way towards his spot on the couch.

 _Creak. . ._

Getting closer.

 _Creak. . ._

Perfect. Just-

 _Creak. . ._

-a little-

 _Creak. . ._

-more. . .

 _Creak. . ._

This was it. Jotaro opened his eyes. He hooked a fist towards the first humanoid shape he saw, rolling of the couch and squaring off his feet. Jotaro put up his fists. The opponent put up his hands. "Woah, woah woah! Easy there!"

He missed.

But it wasn't the thing. Jotaro glowered. It couldn't have been anyone else, not with that hair or those clothes. He smeared his hands over his eyes. "Polnareff, what are you doing in my house?"

"Hey! Your Mother sent me to check on you." He folded his arms and leaned against the wall, as though he didn't just throw in the towel before Jotaro pounded his ass. "Not to mention you left the front door open and didn't bother to lock it."

Wait, did he really forget? Jotaro leaned around the intruder to see that, yes, he did indeed leave the entrance wide open. Jotaro frowned. The car was missing from the driveway. "Where'd she go?"

Polnareff scoffed. "She ran off after you went inside."

"To the shop?"

"Yup."

"Without you?"

The man nodded, grinning.

". . . Is it open when you're not there?"

He shook his head and giggled into his hand.

Jotaro mirrored the action, though for a different reason. "I can't believe you. You didn't even go after her and chose to walk in here uninvited."

"She'll figure it out eventually. Holly told me to check on you." The man shrugged innocently. "She's right, you know. Doesn't look like you've gotten much sleep." Something about his expression went awry. "Do you believe my warning now?"

"Tch." The young man walked up to shut the door. "Did you come here just to say 'I told you so'?"

"No." Polnareff paused, leaving the wall and strolling to the middle of the hallway. "Well, maybe. But that doesn't mean I'm not coming here for completely selfish reasons. One, I figured you might want your postcard back." He held out the postcard. Jotaro came back to promptly swiped it away. The florist continued. "For another, you guys are my neighbors. I want you to stay for once. I've seen so many people leave this house. Work's not the only place that gets lonel- Gah!"

Something swept down the hall, like a speeding bullet. Polnareff jumped back. Jotaro staggered back into the wall. He caught a glimpse of a black shape disappearing into the opposite wall. "W-what was that!?"

"Don't know." The young man stared after the wall. His muscles tightened threateningly. "I think it-"

"J-Jotaro!"

"What?"

"Your leg!"

He looked down. Sure enough, dark red blood soaked through the ripped fabric of his left pant leg. His knee stung. Jotaro grit his teeth and leaned against the wall, lifting his foot off the ground. "Polnareff, go to the washroom. Down the hall before you get to the stairs. There's a handkerchief on the counter."

He was scrambling away before Jotaro finished. He swiped a hand at the blood, rubbing it between his fingers. Did he bump into the furniture and cut himself then? No, it couldn't be. He was bleeding before he hit the wall. That thing sliced his leg open. There was no doubt about it.

Polnareff returned with the green and white square. Of course- he visited this place before with other neighbors. Figured he wouldn't get lost. "Did you see it?"

"I think so. I couldn't make anything of it, though. It was just this blur."

"Yeah, I saw that, too."

The young man unraveled the folded fabric, but stopped before he could staunch the blood. Something was written in ink within the folds.

 _Jotaro Kujo, I will kill you today!_

He stared down at the handkerchief. ". . . Well, fuck." This just proved it. There was no way his mother or father would have written something like this. This handkerchief didn't belong to anyone Jotaro knew. Neither did the hand writing. "Polnareff. Get a look at this."

He did. Granted, it took him a while to properly read the Japanese. But, sure enough, he recoiled in what Jotaro assumed to be fear. Polnareff had the wide eyes, the hands over his mouth, even a odd sort of sound that Jotaro heard his Father make when watching horror movies.

"I guess I should apologize for doubting you before." Jotaro put the fabric over his knee. "You were right. There's something here."

"This isn't good." The man was back on his feet again. "It's. . . It kept people up at night, but it never wanted to kill anyone. Not as far as I know. C'mon, we gotta get-"

Something changed. Jotaro felt it like a slap to the face. Shivers ran up and down his spine. He could see his breath. The headache pounded away like a sledge hammer. There was that smell again- chemical in nature, now that it was stronger. Gravelly chatter clogged his ears. At the end of the hallway stood a figure. A man, entirely made of wispy, densely packed shadows. The lights flickered. Suddenly the house seemed much darker. Much more bleak. The shadow man took a step forward. Then another. It's entire form twitched and jerked about unnaturally, the process of walking sped up like a sprint. In an instant, the thing had crossed the length of the hallway.

"Get out of the hall." Polnareff pulled on Jotaro's collar. "Get out of the hall!"

The young man followed, but it wouldn't do any good. The house was too open. There would be nowhere to hide, at least not in the kitchen. The living room presented just as many options, that being slim to none. Sure, the could go to the tatami room, but something told him that a paper door wouldn't stop whatever this was.

"It's got to be an angry spirit." Polnareff dove for the cabinets, throwing them open and searching. "You've got salt, right?"

Jotaro threw open the door of the next cabinet and ripped out a small glass bottle. He didn't have time to question how bizarre it was

"Make a circle!"

He unscrewed the red cap and poured the salt into his hand. The stream stopped short. Jotaro shook the container. Only the small mound remained, no bigger than a character eraser, in his palm. The chatter quickened. Jotaro looked up. The shadow man stood in the opening to the kitchen.

Another blur. It was standing right in front of them. The young man was staring down into a pair of bleak craters that seemed to suck in every ounce of light imaginable.

Polnareff screamed. "What that hell are you doing!? Make a circle!"

Jotaro didn't even think about his next action. Keeping the salt cupped in his hand, he swatted at the thing's head. Surprisingly, the two connected solidly. The shadow man staggered back, letting out an unearthly screech. Salt cascaded through the air. Jotaro hit the thing square in the jaw. There were no bones with which to identify it with, but he got it good. The lower half looked to be completely unhinged from the top, the tongue flayed into three.

Polnareff stared agape. " _Mon D_ -"

"C'mon. Let's get outta here."

"Uwah!"

With Jotaro grabbing Polnareff's wrist, the bolted towards the door, threw it open and ran out of the house. The younger slammed it shut and pressed his weight against it. He listened. The screeching died down. Jean stepped away slowly from the building, struggling to catch his breath. "Oi. Do you see anything?"

"H-huh?"

"The ghost. Do you see it watching us from any of the windows?"

He backed up further, analyzing the every window and door. ". . . No. I don't see it. But," He gripped his scalp. " _Fils de pute!_ Did you see that?!"

"I was there, dumba-"

"You just bitch-slapped a ghost!"

"Yes, I know." Jotaro left the door apprehensively. The headache redoubled it strength. "As I was saying, I was there."

Neither moved. Soft scratches vibrated behind the walls for a moment. Two. Then silence.

"You think it's ok to go back inside?"

". . . It's worth a shot." Jotaro swallowed, turning the door knob-

A black mass flew out. The force threw the two men back. Polnareff cried out as he landed on his back. Pain exploded in Jotaro's shoulder. His knee screamed with raw agony. He forced himself up anyways, hand clamped firmly on his hat, but stopped when he saw it.

Or rather, _him_.

Out in the field in front of the house, a svelte figure stood. Jotaro could only see the back. Hair and fabric flowed in a breeze Jotaro couldn't feel. The figure must have been a young man, maybe about the same age as Jotaro, yet he stood with the poise of a proud and academic gentleman. He wore what looked to be a green uniform. A long-sleeved uniform, from a school Jotaro hadn't seen before yet in a style close to his own. The hair, brick red, sat neat and trimmed on his head, save for a single, thick coil that hung over the right side of his face. The figure turned his head slightly. He inspected the land. Jotaro noticed that the jaw was completely fine, connected as though it were never hit. Polnareff was about speak up. He silenced him.

The figure walked forward, looking around. He didn't give off any chatter. He didn't seem bloodthirsty or vicious in the slightest. If he still knew Jotaro and Polnareff we still there, he didn't seem to care at all. This was a quiet one, a reserved someone that Jotaro might have found agreeable. The figure stopped by the picnic table, reaching out to touch the edge. He did not speak or turn back to face the building from whence he came.

He spread his arms and let himself fall back. Jotaro scrambled to his feet as though he could catch him. Somehow the figure blinked out of existence. Just up and disappeared, just like that. Jotaro searched for trace of the young man. Something. Anything. He ignored Polnareff's calls to get away.

Nothing. Or so it seemed.

Then he found it. Some tiny object that twinkled red in the sunlight. Standing in the spot where the figure fell, Jotaro scooped it up. It was. . . an earring. A single piece of jewelry with no sign of it's other half. Jotaro held it up to the light, inspecting the rusted chain and chipped paint. It was old, clearly, but it might have been pretty and presentable once. If he could compare it to anything, Jotaro would have said it looked like a pair of cherries.

"H-Hey! Jotaro!"

Upon hearing his name, he tore his eyes away from the earring. Polnareff was by his side. "What happened," he asked. "What did you see?"

"You didn't see it?"

"No- Just the black thing flying out. I looked up and it was gone, but you were looking like it was still there."

Jotaro though for a moment, picking his words. In the end, he found there was no easy way to explain it. "I don't know," he finally replied. "But it looked human for a moment." He held up the jewelry. "And I think it dropped this."

Polnareff squinted. He tilted his head, raised an eyebrow, rubbed at his chin. "You know what?" He shook a hand, pointing a finger. "I know a guy."

"You . . . know a guy?"

"Yeah. Friend of mine. He's a fellow business owner who might know something about this kind of thing."

Jotaro wrinkled his nose. "What kind of business owner knows about haunted houses and earrings?"

"One with a very particular line of work. C'mon." Jean was already headed back towards his house and gesturing for Jotaro to follow. "I'll see if we can call him. S'a great guy. Wise, cultured, knows how to cook his meat. You'd like him."

The young man was about to speak up, but other was already trotting down the street as though it were a given that he would follow. Polnareff threw the door open. Iggy started to bark. Polnareff shouted back in french, syllables as incisive as he could make them.

Jotaro stood alone in the empty field. He turned back, gazing up at the house and rolling the balls of the earring between his fingertips. The building sat silently on what was an otherwise peaceful afternoon. He looked side to side. For the first time, the feeling of being watched had lifted.

He sighed. What a flake. First it wanted to kill him, then it wanted to stare up at the sky and get some fresh air. "Make up your damn mind already, will you?"

"Hey!"

He had forgotten about Polnareff until that point. Iggy was still barking, squirming in the man's arms as he stood in the open doorway. The dog appeared to be squirming for something in Polnareff's hand. What was it a. . . pack of gum?

"I'm not calling him by myself," he shouted. "Get over here! You're the one living in that house."

Really? Was the yelling really nec-

"And your leg's still bleeding!"

". . . Hm." Jotaro went to lock up the house and followed Polnareff without another word, doing what he could to ignore the sting in his knee.

~JJBA~

And there we have it! With part 4 done, I'll be chugging along on the next one. I'm sure you guys can tell who's who by this point in time. Hopefully I'm keeping everyone in character, at that.

Alright! Off to type part 5! Leave a review if you have any suggestions or if anything stood out to you as good or bad. I'll keep doing my best!


	6. Part 5

The last chapter kinda felt like shit. Hopefully this one turns out better. Time to meet everyone's favorite JJBA fortune teller! :D

And hey, thanks to Generic User and Rh33 for the reviews! My self esteem as a writer thanks you deeply! XD

Part 5

Holly called back about a few minutes after the incident, completely unaware of what had transpired. She drove around for some time, troubleshooting the location of the shop with only the business card to help her out. In the end, she gave up, found a phone booth, and called Polnareff's home phone. With a minute's worth of description of the surrounding area, they were able to figure out that she stood only a few feet from the shop in question. All Holly had to do was stay there and not go anywhere else. More importantly, she had to prepare herself for "The Induction", which was an all-nighter at the shop centered around memorizing the contents of the portfolio, handling customers and their complaints, and whatever else a potential employee may need to learn. It was tradition, according to Polnareff (though this was technically the first time he had done such a thing and even hired someone else to work with him but, in his own words, "All traditions have to start somewhere").

How did he believe him so readily? If these arrangements were made before they were trapped in the house with a violent, ethereal being, it would have been just as suspicious as the initial offer of the position. But she didn't need to be involved with something she couldn't put up a fight against. Jotaro would never admit it, but he was a little thankful that Polnareff would do this to keep his Mother out of a dangerous house.

That was. . . Eh, Jotaro didn't know how long ago it was. Point is, it became evening eventually. At 11 degrees Celsius and under a navy blue sky, streaked with orange and gold, he was no longer in pain. After a quick smoke and fixing up his knee, he had elected to lay down on the picnic table seat and simply didn't want to get back up. Laying still kept the paint at bay. In his prolonged inspection of the earring, the time just flew by. He stared up at chain, rubbing the rust into his fingerprints. So this was really real. Everything that had happened was real. Jotaro had heard stories about ghosts and the things and places they were tied to. Once upon a time, before the accident and when the world was still a wondrous place, he had dabbled in games with people who weren't quite friends, but amiable all the same. He had played Kokkuri-san, kept his eyes out for stray hands and rampant hair, listened for strange footsteps and other signs of unnatural life in his old house. Back in 6th grade, he even tried to provoke Hanako with a group of other kids. But the thing- no, the person- in his house, didn't fit any of the stories he heard. The spirit clearly had feet, wore not a single spec of white. Even the face seemed elastic and as brightly colored as a living person with a normal face. The young man hummed. Now that he thought about it, Jotaro hadn't seen the spirit's face. Just the back and the side, and even then it was at a distance.

He took a red bead between his thumb and index finger, scraping away at the paint with his nail absentmindedly. A car drove by audibly. A door slammed.

Polnareff had called someone who would be able to purge the house of this spirit. Would they be giving them their last rites? Or would this be more like a violent and graphic exorcism? Whatever the means, something sat heavy and hollow in Jotaro's chest when he thought about it. What it was or why, he had not a clue.

"Excuse me."

Oh, that wasn't Japanese. The young man looked up, squinting up at a man silhouetted by the setting sun. "Yeah?"

"I don't mean to intrude." His voice rumbled deep and smooth, cradling the weight of a foreign accent. Regardless, he still spoke clean English and Jotaro had spent enough time around his Mother's side of the family to make sense of it. "But I was told by an associate that someone has a certain. . . 'pest problem', for lack of a better term."

"Polnareff sent you?"

"Hm. If you know his name, you must be Mr. Kujo. No offense, but my friend may have been right. You do seem a little on the aloof side."

None taken. The young man sat up and stood from the picnic table, stuffing the earring in his pocket. Thankfully the headache didn't come back. The visitor was definitely a paradox. His appearance was stark and unfamiliar, yet he didn't seem like the type to cause trouble. Silver bangles and golden beaded necklace clicked together with every step. The man seemed intent on masking his muscular build with rippling red and white robes. The skin he wore was rich and dark, like morning coffee. Two tanned streaked rippling from the corners of his dark brown eyes and all the way down to the sharp jawline. The hair seemed just as strange, tied up in various black knots, held up by a white headband, save for a long black strand trailing behind. Most people Jotaro came across were unreadable, unless they were talking. It was just how he worked. But this man took the cake, standing silently and seriously, like a pit of fresh, smouldering embers. He could be tame. He could erupt without warning.

"Mohammed Avdol, at your service." The man extended a hand to shake.

". . . Mr. Kujo is my Father. Just 'Jotaro' is fine." He returned the gesture and spoke his best English.

"I see. It's a pleasure to meet you, Jotaro."

Was it? Jotaro knew what happy looked like. This wasn't the face of happy. This was more likely to be the face of a machine rather than a real person. The man looked around, apparently done with the introduction. "We mustn't waste any time," he said. Avdol gestured towards the house. "Is this the place?"

"Yeah. We moved in earlier this week."

"Hmmm. . . ."

Twilight stretched further and fainter across the horizon. The air hung still and tepid. The man named Mohammed Avdol walked up to and around the house, looking it up and down. "I'll be honest; I know enough, but this isn't my usual trade." He was watching the windows, even holding a hand out as if to feel if the house itself were radiating heat or not. "But my friend called me out and said it was an ongoing problem. That someone is going to get seriously hurt soon if something isn't done." Maybe he had a 6th sense for this sort of thing. Maybe he was a total fraud. Jotaro followed behind warily. "Tell me, you're sure this is their haunt?"

"Yeah. I kinda wish they would just hang around some old school or whatever." Yes, play along. Jotaro wasn't some idiot who would let the wool be pulled over his eyes so easily.

"They could be recently deceased." The man trailed tanned, calloused fingertips along the side of the building, walking across the gravel pit. "How does it interact with your Mother?"

"It's doesn't, I don't think. Mom didn't even know it was there, for the whole week."

"And how did you know it was there?"

Jotaro glared up at the window. Nothing but the flowers and curtains could be seen. "I heard it at first," he explained. "It would make all these little sounds in the walls. The second night after we moved, it grabbed at my throat while I pretended to be asleep. I thought it was a bad dream before believing it was a spirit. Then no sounds or activity until earlier today."

"And that's how you hurt your knee?"

"How'd you know?"

"You have a slight limp. That and Polnareff told me."

"Oh."

". . . How are your parents, by the way?"

The man wasn't inspecting the building. He had suddenly taken an interest in Jotaro. Maybe a bit too much, for how close he decided to stand to him and how intensely he stared as he waited for an answer. Suspicious, indeed. "Uh. . . What?"

"Tell me about your Mother and Father," Avdol replied. "Are they in good health? Do they get sick often? Do they have a happy marriage? Do they drink, smoke, use any other substances?"

Personal. Too personal. Jotaro glared at Avdol. "Why the hell do you want to know?"

"Just answer the questions, please."

Wow. This one wasn't in the mood for bullshit. Jotaro wasn't either, but beating up someone who was trying to help would leave a bad taste in his mouth, regardless of whether or not he was a fraud. "They're fine," the young man replied. "Don't drink, don't smoke. They don't have any diseases as far as I know and they're pretty happy, even if my Father tends to worry about trivial things."

"And what about you?"

"M-Me?"

"You live in that house too, do you not?"

Jotaro knit his brows and looked away. Something wasn't right. Every instinct told him to dump this strange man, but Jotaro found himself powerless to act upon it. Something like this would send him in a world of pain again. He decided to be quick with his response. "I smoke every now and again."

"How often?"

"I go through. . . a pack a week? Maybe?"

Avdol frowned. "I don't think that's enough. Yes, some might be attracted to other addicts, but it would take more than a pack a week to get their attention. Have you gotten over a cold recently? Or maybe there's a bug going around at the moment?"

"I'm fine. Not sure if anything is going around, except for maybe hay fever."

The gears were turning inside the foreigner's head. "Then. . . If you don't mind that I get a little personal, -"

Oh no. More? How much more personal was this guy going to get?

"-what about more chronic ailments? Autoimmune diseases, genetic disorders, mental illnesses, things of that nature. Does anything like that come to mind?"

A chronic ailment? Jotaro brought a hand up to hold down his hat. Maybe. . . _that_ could be a factor. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to be here.

"You really should let me know." The foreigner spoke softly, yet with resolve. "If we know why this entity is targeting you, we'd be able to figure out just what it is and be closer to abolishing it from your home. You must understand: This is for the safety of you and your Mother."

Safety for him and his Mother. If he was a sham, then he was putting on a damn good act. If not, then maybe it was time to cooperate a little more. Jotaro shut his eyes and took the cap off. He didn't look the man in the eye. It was easier to just show him.

Silence. Yes, he definitely saw it. Jotaro heard the man shift his weight as gravel ground beneath his feet. The teenager could even feel the man's hand hover over the hairline. Of course, he'd want to get a closer look at the scar. "Was this recent?"

". . . It happened back in junior high," the young man explained. "I was involved in an 'accident' of sorts about four or five years ago. Doesn't hurt anymore, but I get somatic symptoms." He put the hat back on, grateful for the return of his so-called "protection". "I don't like the medicine, so I don't take it. The side effects drive me up a wall."

More silence. Was he waiting?

Jotaro put his fists in his pockets and kept his gaze trained on the ground. "I wasn't quite the same after the accident. Certain things . . . don't connect right anymore. I don't even have dreams- it's impossible for me. From what I heard from the doctors back then, I wasn't even supposed to survive. But here I am."

The air felt stale. Jotaro felt sick yet again. This was the secret he had guarded heavily from even his closest family. His mother was the only other person who knew. Then a complete stranger came along and ripped the information clean out of him. Maybe Avdol would write him off as a mad man. Maybe he would just leave and say he was only hallucinating. Worse yet, he could pity him. Jotaro looked up and caught a glimpse of the foreigner's expression. Once again, it was unreadable.

Avdol gave a pensive nod. ". . . I see," he said softly. "Does anyone else know?"

"Just my Mother." Jotaro silently pleaded that he quit talking about it. Maybe his prayer was heard, since the man nodded and patted his pockets, searching for something. "You don't any anything else to say about that," the young man asked.

"I might. I could either gossip or use my time more wisely and make the necessary preparations." He withdrew a small bottle of what looked to be a red spice. Pepper, maybe? "Regardless of what happened before, this is happening now. I will not allow a single second to go to waste."

". . . One more thing."

Avdol stopped and looked at Jotaro.

"None of this gets out. Not to my Mother and especially not to my Father. Are we clear?"

"Of course," the man replied, unintimidated by the words. "I will respect that wish." Avdol started to dig around in his sleeves. "We must wait until nightfall. The entity will be most active then. Now listen: I forbid you to enter the house until I give you permission. It's dangerous, more so than you understand-"

"Ghosts don't like salt, right?"

Avdol stopped and blinked. "Uh. . . Yes, that is true. Salt has been known to absorb and purify negative energies-"

"Good." Jotaro walked past Avdol and away from the house, despite his protests. "That's all I need to know. I'll go along with your plan if mine fails."

"Wait, what do you even intend to do?!"

"Hey, I might just be some punk," Jotaro answered, adjusting the fit of his cap, "but I can hold my own with just my fists. I just need to buy some salt. I used up what we had and forgot to get extra. Stay here if you want. I'll be back in around fifteen minutes."

Without another word, Jotaro was turning the corner and mapping his path to the closest convenience store.

~JJBA~

Red pepper from a clay bottle. A rusted tinder box. An antique, musty-smelling book inscribed in Arabic. A few bottles of salt from the convenience store down the street. The two stood in the house again. Jotaro waited by a pot of boiling water on the stove. Every now and again, he would stir a wooden spoon in, just to make sure the contents had dissolved just right. About three empty glass bottles sat neglected on the counter. On the ground and by the window rather than at the table, Avdol held the book and spoke softly in an overseas tongue. It was night. Yes, he let Jotaro in after some convincing, but it was like they had never had any problems to begin with. The plan was apparently permissible. Since twilight, Avdol has sat with his legs crossed and that book open, presumably practicing some set of lines. Jotaro looked at the items again, picking up the clay bottle and giving the contents a brief whiff. He immediately regretted the decision as he realized that he more or less self-immolated his nose hairs. "Excuse me," he croaked.

The man looked up from the book.

"All this stuff," he gestured towards the items. "These can drive the spirit away?"

"They should." Avdol straightened up from his position hunched over the book. "Personally, I went into this thinking it as a _djinn_ , but I have as much reason to believe my guess is and isn't true."

 _Djinn_? Whatever it was, Jotaro didn't like the sound of it. The boy that appeared in the field was very clearly a boy, not some yokai or other creature.

Avdol stopped going through the pages. "I hope you don't mind me asking, but could you go into more specifics of the accide-"

"No."

"No?"

"I told you enough." Jotaro glared at Avdol and set the pepper back down on the table. "I hit my head and things don't work like they should. What more do you need to know?"

He raised an eyebrow. "The specifics of what doesn't work might be nice to know."

"Care to tell me why?"

Avdol pursed his lips. "Basically, it's hunting." He closed the book and stood to walk closer. "Spirits, Djinn, whatever- From the time they are earthbound to the time they move on, they are trapped here and need something to feed on. Namely, the energy living beings give off. And the spirit could go about feeding in one of two ways. First, they could go after a perfectly healthy person. No addiction, takes care of themselves, doesn't lust or covet what others have, maybe they make sure to pray three times every morning like they should- they'd be difficult to take down, but they would yield a good 'meal', so to speak. Second, they could go after a sickly person. The negative energy would be easy to feed off of. Typically, these targets lose themselves to base and material pleasures or are stricken with terrible diseases. They might not eat right or frequently fall to illness and sin."

"So which one do I fall into?"

"That. . ." Avdol closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is what concerns me. Physically, you're rather well off. You're strong and in your prime, save for your smoking habit. But mentally, you're a completely different story. There are cracks in your foundation that the entity could easily exploit. You might not even be completely aware of them. They could strike and take without you ever knowing that it hit you."

"So I'm a good meal that's easy to get? Like free samples at the grocery store?"

"Precisely."

Jotaro felt his head begin to throb. That wasn't the news he really wanted to hear. He wasn't even sure what news he wanted to hear, but it wasn't that.

"It won't end there." The man continued. "Supernatural energies tend to attract other supernatural energies. If one feeds on you, then more are sure to come. They won't stop, no matter what. And if too many come after you, death will become closer and more intimate with you than you'd really ever want." Avdol turned to Jotaro. "Do you understand why we need to start now? If we don't you'll lose yourself to predators you couldn't even begin to understand, let alone plead for mercy with. Remain idle for too long and it will be too late."

The young man simply nodded. The time to question Avdol's legitimacy had long since passed. "So what are you thinking?"

"I think I know how to bring it out." Avdol turned back to go back through the pages of the book. "I hate to use something so sacred to provoke a supernatural being, but it's very rare for one of these spirits to resist the call."

"The call?"

"Shh."

Jotaro shut his mouth immediately. Avdol returned his attention to the text and ran his fingertips over the pages. He spoke as soft as a bed of desert sand. The words are both hollowing and foreign, yet comforting and warm. Like a soft flame in the darkest hour, Jotaro couldn't help but relish in something so simple. He, too, felt called upon for something. But for what? Was he being called to serve? To kneel? To rest or to instigate some change? He didn't know. Avdol almost seemed to sing the words, for how he drew them out and offered them up so humbly and almost adoringly. Jotaro watched and couldn't reciprocate the respect he had for these words. Maybe it was because he was not familiar with the words or their value. Maybe it was because it was physically impossible for him to do so, whether by comprehension or mental capacity. But he kept quiet and listened, arms folded and leaning against the edge of the counter. Lending an ear, no matter who you are or where you come from, is respect.

A sobering ring filled the room, corner to corner, when the man finished. They looked around. They waited. Did the spirit hear the call? Would it answer?

The temperature dropped. The lights flickered and the flame went out. Jotaro went to turn off the gas and heard the ghostly chatter once more. He plunged his fists into the water, ignoring the burn, and put them up to guard his face.

Show time.

~JJBA~

So, this words Avdol uses is essentially the _Adhan_ , the Muslim "Call to Prayer". I didn't write the words out, obviously, since I know there are people who hold those words very dear. It was not my intention to offend anyone and this part could easily be edited.

That being said, I highly recommend you find one of these recordings of the _Adhan_ if you can. There's something so beautiful, strange and haunting about hearing those words offered to another version of the God you know. I've found a couple on Youtube and my eyes may or may not have watered a bit.

Anyways, I'll be working on part 6. Things should get more interesting then. At least I hope. Hope to see you all then. :)


	7. Part 6

Alright, part 6! I'll be trying my hand at some action for this- I know the story needs it, even if this is supposed to be more of a slice of life fic. I mean, it's Jojo's Bizarre Adventure, and part 3 centric at that. But I guess this is a good question to ask you guys: What direction should I take the story? I do want to make something slower and focused more on internal conflict, but you guys might not want that and maybe prefer something with more external conflict and action, like the anime and manga is more centered around. I could balance it out for both as well.

Thanks again to Generic User for the review! And I'm glad you liked Sadao's characterization. In all honestly, it would have been harder to write him as a negligent asshole because I didn't want him to be just that. I wanted him to still love and be devoted to his family and I just couldn't see him as anything else. Even he would have some good in him, I hope. The clingy, dorkishness and guilt over his success just kind of happened as I wrote him, but I do still hope this made a good and interesting character.

Anyways, do continue! I'll still be here at the end of the chapter~.

Part 6

` The temperature dropped. The lights flickered and the flame went out. Jotaro went to turn off the gas and heard the ghostly chatter once more. He plunged his fists into the water, ignoring the burn, and put them up to guard his face.

Show time.

Avdol pressed himself against the wall separating the kitchen from the living room. This wasn't a part of the plan he supported, but using the assumed target as bait wasn't a particularly bad idea. Jotaro kept himself close to the pot of water. Even if his skin burned and he was tied to a single spot, it would be fine. He would roll with it. Sure enough, the spirit appeared, comprised entirely of shadows just as before. First a foot appeared through the wall perpendicular the stove. Then a knee and a torse. Avdol disappeared behind his own wall. The neck stretched. A head pushed through, immediately eying Jotaro with the same gaping craters as its first appearance.

Jotaro clenched his fists. "Oi," he said. "I see you there." He had to keep it distracted. Once it noticed the backup, the plan would fall through. The spirit stepped out of the wall and walked a few steps across the floor.

"Yeah, you remember me?"

It stood still. Slowly, the ghost craned its head to the side, as if taking a moment to remember or to make a decision. He put out a hand and rose it to the air. Shadowy tendrils slithered out from behind it's back, blurring and expanding. Higher they climbed, like thin, willowy vines, feeling the air and preparing to strike.

"Tch." Jotaro reached a thumb up to crack his knuckles. "You gonna do something with those or are just compensating for something?"

The shadow man jumped back. Jotaro narrowed his eyes. Just what was this thing planning? He pursued smoothly, fists up. It threw a hand out, turning it's head away. The tendrils flailed. Crude cut projectiles were suddenly flying across the space between them. All but one missed. Jotaro didn't have time to worry about the cut beneath his eye- the tendrils bolted towards him. He threw a right hook and caught one. A shriek cut through. Thin smoke climbed from the point of impact. The appendage disappeared. The spirit staggered back. Jotaro plunged his hands into the salt water again. Sure, he stunned it, but he would have to move fast.

The figure blurred again. Jotaro found it behind him with a quick glance over the shoulder. It swung its fists. He swerved. With a great clatter, the pot fell to the ground, sending salt water all over the stove, dripping over the oven door below and pooling across the floor.

Well, shit. It was smart. And not at all happy.

Avdol had taken notice. "Jotaro, what-"

"Now's not a good time," came the hurried reply. He backed away, footsteps plopping in the salt water. Nope, not happy at all. The tendrils embedded themselves into the walls and up to the ceiling like veins. Tips dropped down and slithered slowly. The bastard found a way around the salt water. It was going to try and separate him from the water. That wouldn't to- the further away Jotaro got from this thing, be bigger disadvantage he would be at. But he was empty-handed. The salt water already on his hands might not last long. Across the room, the spirit seemed to vibrate with anger. Jotaro searched for something around the room to fight with. A spare bottle of salt, that clay container of pepper-

Oh, that would do just perfectly.

Jotaro dove over the puddle, avoiding the tendrils as they plunged into the ground and swiping the damp hand towel from the oven's handle. He kicked a foot into the puddle. The spirit jumped back. Jotaro wound up the towel into a wet noodle and stepped away from the water. Sure enough, the figure saw the trap as an opportunity. In another blur of motion, it was within range. Jotaro hooked the towel under it's chin. Smoke climbed up. The spirit let out an unearthly cry of agony.

"Avdol, now!"

Avdol bolted around the wall and declared the verses in booming Arabic. The spirit writhed and screamed. Black appendages flailed and grabbed desperately. Lights flickered. Shadowy hands clawed at the wet towel. Jotaro didn't let up. He pulled tighter. There was no way this fucker was getting away.

The spirit squirmed away somehow, phasing through Jotaro's body and the wall behind. And just like that, they were alone again.

Jotaro let the towel fall and shook the salt water off his hands. "Is that it?"

"I certainly hope so." Avdol shut the book. "We've at least driven it out. That doesn't mean that it's been sent out of this world, but we can at least prevent it from entering your home again. Come, let's-"

The lights started to flicker again. One by one, they died out. The cold had returned.

 _Ca-click!_

Jotaro whipped his head around. That came from the front door. Despite Avdol's protests, Jotaro went to check it. Sure enough, it was locked. Did they lock it before?

 _Ca-click! Ca-click! Ca-click!_

The same thing happened to every other door and window in the house. Long appendages shot all around, barricading them. The young man pulled back abruptly. Upon closer inspection, they looked to be tentacles of some kind, glowing green and veined with silver. He might have likened the pattern to melon skin if their appearance wasn't so out of place.

Avdol stared agape, walking to Jotaro's side once more. "This is. . ."

"You know what these are?" Jotaro reached out to touch them but thought better of it.

Avdol's jaw dropped. "You can see them?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

The foreigner opened his mouth to speak but something cut him off. The air burned with a sinister energy. Gentle tremors drummed through the walls and floor.

"Have any other tricks of your sleeve?"

"I probably would have used them already if I did."

". . . No." The color drained from Avdol's face. He grabbed Jotaro by the collar and started to pull him away. "You're not prepared for this."

"Hey, watch the jacket!"

But he didn't listen. Avdol dragged him back to the hallway and threw open the first door he found- a coat closet. The foreigner threw him inside. "Stay here," he ordered. "I'm afraid things are going to get a little bit rough. No matter what happens, don't come out until I get you."

Jotaro grunted as his back hit the wall, knocking coats on top of him. The closet door slammed shut. He went for the doorknob, only to pull his hand back with a hiss of pain. "What the hell?" When did the knob suddenly get so hot? The metal even gave an angry red glow. Jotaro shoved the coats off him. A clamor arose outside the closet door. The walls shook with every imperceivable impact. Green and red glowed past the gap between the door and the frame. Hot and cold fought each other to burn or freeze all that stood in their way. All the while, Jotaro stayed huddled in the closet, doing what he could to avoid the burning doorknob.

Avdol gave a muffled shout in Arabic. Something hit something else. A great weight fell to the floor outside.

Then silence.

Jotaro strained to listen. He breathed in slowly. All was quiet and still, more than it should be after an ordeal like that. He tested the knob. Still hot, but manageable. Pulling the sleeve of his jacket over his hand, he twisted it just enough to let himself out. All was quiet. The couch had been pulled away from the wall and sat in the middle of the living room. Jotaro proceeded slowly. Pain shot up through his left foot. Looking down, he found tiny shards of broken glass. Up above, the light bulb from the overhead light had popped and left the room dark. The green tentacles still barricaded the windows and doors, giving what should have been safe and familiar an eerie, toxic glow. He stepped around the glass gingerly. Photo frames lay strewn about and utterly broken. Every well wore strange dents. Some ambush of projectiles must have hit the wall. Several dining room chairs had been left overturned. Cabinet doors were left ajar.

The clay bottle slowly rolled across the floor, empty. Burnt pepper laced itself in the air. "What the hell happened here. . . ?"

Something shuffled quietly behind him. Jotaro whipped around. He saw the corner of a red robe and an old shoe disappear behind the wall into the hallway, as though being dragged away. Pain stabbed his gut. The teenager was on his own.

A tight pressure secured itself around Jotaro's middle, pulling his arms to his sides. The green tendrils had taken hold with a loud _snap_. About five held him up. More grabbed him. _Snap! Snap! Snap!_ Tightening around his things, calves and ankles, the appendages damn near lifted him off the ground. Jotaro fought against his bindings. He felt the air forced out of him as they pulled taut. The young man struggled more. He was no closer to being free.

The air dropped another few degrees. Once again he could see his breath. Jotaro looked up. It was back. The shadow man watched from the tatami room entry way. It walked closer, almost nonchalantly. The entire form jittered and jerked about, crossing the room in a fraction of a second. Jotaro fought against the bindings once more. The thing stared up at him clinically. What were once hollow holes became tiny, bright red slits. A thin line cut through the chin and curved up, forming a thin and sinister smile. More green appendages sprouted forth, sliding up Jotaro's spine, entwining themselves in his hair and around his neck, yanking upwards. A few went as far as to force his mouth open, as though examining a prize. Every alarm in Jotaro's mind went off, wordlessly screaming "Don't touch me". He chomped down. Hard. Nothing- the tendrils phazed through and the shadow man withdrew them coolly. The shoulders shook up and down. A hiss thrummed through the air again.

Was it laughing at him?

The figure brought a hand up and pressed it flat against Jotaro's chest, palm over the left side. He opened his mouth to protest, but the words stopped in his throat. Cold. The spot it touched felt cold. Somehow it seeped in like liquid nitrogen. The shadow man, spirit, whatever it was- it was pressing it's hand inside, feeling around and looking for something. The smile on it's face widened.

The spirit forced itself in deeper.

Jotaro croaked out an uncharacteristic whimper. He suddenly felt faint. Simple, involuntary tasks became arduous. His pulse weakened and dropped speed. When the young man tried to breathe he felt his lungs fill and stretch to their limits with each breath, yet it was still nowhere near enough air. His vision blurred and faded. Every limb and muscle felt dragged down by some imperceivable force.

Deeper.

The darkness was closing in. Everything was slowing down. Jotaro searched for Avdol around the room. He was nowhere to be seen. The young man gave one final instance of defiance against the tendrils. They yielded no sign of release.

Was this how he was going to die?

Deeper.

It was spreading. Everything felt cold- his lungs, his ribs, the very chambers of his heart. The pull of sleep made little effort to drag Jotaro down the rest of the way. It's wasn't a very good life. It was fun in the beginning, but ended up dull. Maybe there was a God who decided to let him down easy and give him something close to true death for the past few years.

Deeper.

All was black. All was silent and still. And just like that, Jotaro Kujo was no longer a part of the world he grew up in.

Or so he thought.

Light rushed forth and washed over him like a powerful wave. But that wasn't the end. He started to hear waves, rolling forward and pulling back rhythmically behind him. Jotaro opened his eyes. Was he dead? Was it really over with that quickly? It wasn't cold anymore. If he were bound or suffering, he was no longer aware of it. The young man looked around, finding himself on what looked to be a beach. Sand stretched for hundreds upon thousands of kilometers in front, soft and glittering green. Crude cut gemstones, closely resembling emeralds, poked out here and there. Water climbed up and washed past Jotaro's ankles and soaked through his shoes. He looked down. It was also green. Up above, the sky shone gold and radiant, but there was not a single sign of the sun. And the smell. . . rather than that of sea salt, it was more chemical in nature, very clearly that of paint and charcoal.

And _he_ was back.

The red hair and green uniform were unmistakable. Same for the cherry earrings he wore. Jotaro couldn't get that image of the strange student standing by the picnic table out of his head if he tried. But another image appeared to take it's place. The boy had returned, holding onto the fabric of Jotaro's shirt, staring up at him and standing well within the radius of personal space. Yes, he was a slim one, and also a tall one. Not as tall as Jotaro, but definitely somewhere close to 180 centimeters. Perhaps the most apparent fact was that he was not . . . well, boyish, at least not in the sense that most boys his age were boyish. He still had an angle to his cheekbones and a particular slant to his brow. But not all of it was so. Something about the skin seemed too soft and clear. Something about the eyes, purple and framed with long lashes, were too fair and bright to belong to a budding man. Even with those faint scars cutting vertically through the lids, he definitely fell into the category of "pretty boy". Funnily enough, he probably wasn't even aware of it.

Despite what had happened, Jotaro didn't see this entity as inherently malicious. Maybe he never was or never intended to be.

The spirit smiled, pearly white teeth peeking out from behind the lips. He moved his mouth as though speaking yet. . . there were no words. A hiss rippled through the air. He would avert his gaze to shake his head, use a free hand to smooth through his hair sheepishly and otherwise gesture. He may have laughed at one point. Every motion and crinkle of the face went on blissfully without context, without a single meaningful piece of language to pinpoint what he wanted to say. On and on, the haunting hiss, like disjointed chatter, teased and scattered through the air.

Jotaro blinked. Wait, so this whole time. . . It was trying to communicate with him?

The boy with the red hair slowly came to a halt in his "speech". All the light and joy from his face faded, bit by bit. He tried to talk again. More hissing. He must not have been aware of it just yet. The movements became more forceful and exaggerated, like he were shouting and struggling to be heard. All the while, the sound remained faint and airy. The spirit took Jotaro's collar in his hands and pulled desperately. The young man grit his teeth. This was just sad. Jotaro had had enough. "Oi, you're overreacting," he said. "Try speaking some real Japanese."

And the boy stopped. He stared up. The eyes shifted and blinked unnaturally fast for all of two seconds. Perhaps his last shred of hope had been crushed and he couldn't even comprehend how to pick up the pieces.

And suddenly the ghost was pulled back. Something solid rushed to meet Jotaro. His chest burned, like all the skin of his internal organs had been ripped clean off. And yet he couldn't stop his frantic breathing. Deep inside, he felt cold. Conversely, the air burned. Jotaro found that he was no longer bound, let alone upright. With stiff limbs, he pushed himself off the floor and up to his knees.

Fire.

It was everywhere, long red and white tongues climbing up the walls, ceiling, and weaving in and out of doorways. Jotaro was back in the house. Avdol had returned, one eye strewn shut against a trickle of blood from his head. A rope of fire flew out at the proclamation of "red bind". At one end, the shadow man struggled and screamed in agony, strong enough to make one's ears bleed. Jotaro clamped his hands to the sides of his head. The extension wrapped twice around the body and once around the head. Of course, Avdol stood at the other end but rather than him, a humanoid creature with the head of a bird and comprised of flames from the waist down.

"I'll burn you to a crisp!"

The entire being had been swallowed up in the flames. It's eyes went wide, mouth agape. Shoulders, cheeks, feet- relentlessly, it was eaten alive. It screamed and screamed, but no one came to help. Watching a silhouette flaking away piece by piece is one thing to watch. Knowing the silhouette was a person and watching it flake away piece by piece is a rather different matter. And yet Jotaro couldn't bring himself to do anything more than an observing bystander would do.

At long last, the head, like the rest of the body, was swallowed up. Then nothing. The screech rung hollow throughout the walls of the house. Bit by bit, the room cooled down. The bird-headed being vanished. "Jotaro, are you alright?" Avdol rushed to help. "You're lucky I intervened when I did. I'm not sure if that was forced feeding or a forced attachment, but I'm glad I stopped it when I did."

"Don't touch me. I'm fine." Jotaro finally pushed himself into a standing position and walked closer. Ruin laid all around. ". . . You're not going to explain what any of that was?"

The foreigner wouldn't face Jotaro. Avdol hung and shook his head. "It's probably best that you don't know." He wiped the blood away from his forehead. "I don't sense anything else. This house is clear. I think it's about time I left."

~JJBA~

Avdol had on final piece of advice to give before he left. That and he had the decency to help and clean up.

"These prayers," he had said, opening his book for notes to be taken. "Read them outloud three times every morning. Do this and nothing else'undesirable'will come into your home. Should you come across any spirits, these should also be sufficient on the spot. Be wary, young man. Take care of yourself and be on the lookout for anything supernatural or bizarre. And whatever you do, don't ever- _ever_ \- let any of them get attached to you, let alone you to them. Do you understand?"

Jotaro understood perfectly well. He bid the man goodbye, tossed the notes aside and retired as he would any other night.

Sleep came easily to him. And for some reason, that was an annoying piece of information.

~JJBA~

Yup, getting the action down right was kind of a bitch for me. I'm not really good at imagining actions scenes and finding the right poses for Kakyoin (not to mention how Jotaro and Avdol would fight themselves). That and it was kinda difficult to find clean sprites to use as reference. I actually had to find footage of the "Heritage for the Future" game and slow it down. Maybe I can stay focused on internal conflict since I'm not very good at writing external conflict, but it was still cool to figure it out.

Oh, I forgot: The old copy of the Quran Avdol keeps here aligns with his canon character. Apparently, one of his hobbies is collecting old books. :)

Anyways, I'll be chipping away at part 7. It will probably get a little slower again.


	8. Part 7

So I've been watching this voice over of the My Immortal fic for quite some time. And it's got me scared of making Jotaro out to be a Gary Stu. Funnily enough, part of the purpose of this fic was to have him struggle and to give him flaws. I guess I'll keep chugging along anyways. Enjoy part 7~!

Part 7

Jotaro woke up the next morning more refreshed than he had been all that week. He hadn't heard a strange single sound all night. He sat up from his sleeping position and inspected the room. It was quiet. Upon traveling to the lower floor, he found that Holly had returned home. Granted, she was unconscious on the living room couch, limbs strewn ungracefully over the cushions and mumbling in her sleep about flowers and prices, but home nonetheless. And if that was the case, that probably meant no breakfast just yet. Whatever. Green tea would do just fine. Jotaro dug in the fridge for a can and retreated back upstairs.

Beverage in hand, he surveyed the quiet calm of his home. Everything was as it was. The furniture, the cabinets and doors- even the dents in the walls had vanished. The house really was empty now. He shrugged and turned for the stairs. Maybe it was best that he forget about the whole thing, especially the ghost boy who tried to talk to him. If he thought about it any longer, he would no doubt give himself another headache.

 _Sctrch. . ._

He looked back down the staircase, standing only halfway up. Eyes shifted side to side. Was it not gotten rid of? After being burnt so badly, it shouldn't have made it back. Jotaro popped the tab of the can and proceeded up the stairs. Maybe he was just imagining things.

 _Clck. . . clck. . ._

Strange. The entity was nowhere to be found. Jotaro opened the door to his room and found the source- an odd, black puddle sitting in the middle of the floor. Darkness undulated and reached out. A hand spread out and collapsed back to the ground. Small tendrils reached up, grabbing at the air, only to fall to the same fate. The young man found himself transfixed by the sight. It had to be him again. The whispering chatter was unmistakable, no matter how faint. Something arose in the back of Jotaro's throat and settled uncomfortably in his mouth. He set the can on the corner of his desk and his legs carried him towards the puddle on their own accord.

 _"Be wary, young man."_

Jotaro stopped and knelt over the spot, elbows on his knees. The black spot stilled. No appendages reached up for anything or anyone.

 _"Take care of yourself and be on the lookout for anything supernatural or bizarre."_

He observed what remained of the entity. ". . . Looks like you're in a bad spot."

The puddle tightened in on itself, as if it were trying to hide.

 _"And whatever you do, don't ever-_ ever _\- let any of them get attached to you, let alone you to them."_

"It's fine. Here." Jotaro set the can off to the side and held out a hand. "Take what you need. Just don't kill me in the process."

The chatter stopped. Another ripple shook the puddle.

. . .

A human hand shot up and grabbed Jotaro by the wrist. Immediately the young man felt something forcefully drawn out. The being tugged once. Jotaro fell forward on his knees and free hand. The being tugged twice. It left the young man shaking in posture and breath. Every muscle felt heavy and dehydrated, like concrete. The hand didn't release him. Once meek and small, the puddle festered and grew. Tendrils sprouted and climbed up, weaving within one another. At this point it was too late to pull away. Somehow Jotaro knew that. The upper half of a humanoid figure had been formed, which proceeded to climb further out of the floor. It kept a tenacious hold on Jotaro's wrist.

The being pulled thrice. The young man felt his eyes roll back up into his head. The world tilted and fell away. Simply put, he had blacked out.

Perhaps, despite all that had happened, it wasn't all that concerning. After all, he came to a few minutes later with only a faint sense of lethargy from the incident. Or maybe it should have been more concerning. Instead of waking up on the floor where he passed out, Jotaro found himself propped up against the wall right next to the door. Moreover, he was watching. Waiting. The school boy took watch over the other, seated in a seiza position just across the way.

"Alright," huffed Jotaro, kneading a palm into his eye. "I probably won't be so nice next time. So don't go asking for anymore handouts. My parents are off limits, too."

The schoolboy didn't reply. His gaze fell. He turned his head away and rubbed the back of his neck. Maybe it was in shame. Maybe it was in guilt or in melancholy. If it was a combination of the these elements or a single, pure element, Jotaro hadn't a clue.

"Hey, I didn't say that to make you feel bad." He cradled a fresh headache in the back of his head. Honestly, things like that only caused more trouble and made more unnecessary matters to sort through. "Just don't go looking for me if you need another dose."

No response. The schoolboy stood and turned away, walking towards the closet. His whole body blurred with speed. In half a moment, he was kneeling inside the closet and slowly pulling the door shut on himself, eyes still averted to the ground. By the time Jotaro had gotten up and opened the closet again, the spirit had disappeared. All that was left behind was a small piece of paper.

A drawing, to be exact. Upon closer inspection, it looked to be a flower. Tens of small, bell-like blossoms sprouted from a thick, stout stem. Long leaves shot up from the base, all of it drawn in purple ink. Jotaro picked up the paper and flipped it over. Nothing on the back. No words. It no doubt came from the spirit, but what sense was supposed to be made out of it? What did it mean?

Footsteps creaked just below on the first floor. In a rare moment, Holly swore and fumbled around audibly. Maybe there was someone who could make sense of the picture after all.

~JJBA~

Well, his mother managed to get that damned "goodbye kiss" in. On the contrary, he couldn't ask his question as she was already staggering back in the house to get some more sleep.

"And that's the gist of it. Are there any questions?"

It probably would have irritated him more if it wasn't biology class. The old man was back and it was that time of day. Once again Jotaro was staring out the window. Every now and again, he would glance up at the board. Mostly it was blocks of writing overlooking a sea of frantic classmates with their pencils and notes. Sometimes there would be a diagram. Plant and animal cells. The parts of a flower. A pair of circles with writing in the oval of which they overlapped. Jotaro would study whatever it was for a few moments and go back to watching the clouds float lazily along.

"Alright, good work today everyone. Continue working on questions four, five and six. Be sure to cite your sources. We'll discuss them briefly tomorrow at the beginning of class."

He fished the paper back out of his pocket. Once again, he flipped it over to check both sides. Still nothing. At least the picture itself probably wasn't weird or whatever. Not like that spirit was.

That sad school boy. . . Jotaro had already helped him out. He did more than he needed to to. So why couldn't he get him out of his head?

"Excuse me, Kujo-Kun?"

He crumpled the picture up again and shoved it in his pocket upon hearing his name called. Up above the teacher stood and smiled down. Yes, he certainly was an old one, but didn't appear to be committed to looking as such. His blue eyes were both bright and dark at once, seasoned with a good bit of remaining fight in them. Maybe his hair had started to grey, though it was so blonde that the white and the gold blended seamlessly together. Between the navy suit and the red tie, he almost looked like a sailor type of person. And sure enough, the remaining students leaned this way and that, even huddling in their little groups to gossip about the punk who told off the home room teacher on his first day.

"Would you mind stepping out in the hallway with me for a bit," he asked softly. "I wanted to talk to you about something important. Don't worry, it won't take long. Just a minute or two. Is that alright with you?"

What did this one want? Reluctantly, the young man stood up and followed the teacher into the hallway. He hadn't even closed the door before his classmates started to exchange theories over what had happened and why. "So what's this about, mister. . ."

"Oh, Tenille-Sensei is just fine." The old man gestured sheepishly. "If people start calling me by my real name, it'll look like I'm trying too hard."

". . . Right. So what did you want?"

"Ah, yes." The teacher dug through his bag for a piece of paper. A form, from the looks of it. "You haven't turned in your club submission form yet. I get that you transferred here recently, but it's still overdue. Please fill it out. "

Jotaro wrinkled his nose at the paper. ". . . There's no point."

The man raised an eyebrow curiously. "And why do you think that is?"

"I'm not going to go anyways. Why have me fill out a form for something I won't use? Just assign me clean up or whatever and get it over with."

"Now, now. There's no need to get abrasive. I'm not here to punish you, but you still have to join a club."

Jotaro raised an eyebrow.

"I might be wrong, but you don't seem like the type who likes to cause trouble on purpose. And you don't seem like the type who likes a lot of attention, either. Why don't you join the biology club? No one else has, really. I guess it would be different if it were a student-made club, but it's only me and it's still here. You're more than welcome to stop by whenever you like."

Well, this was odd. "You're not going to punish me?"

"I'm not much one for causing trouble either," he replied. "No one else wanted to confront you, though. They said you were too intimidating and your record isn't the most, how we say, most secure or the type of thing that gives others peace of mind."

Why was he still talking so softly? Why didn't he express any anger, just yell at him or whatever? If he really did see the records, he should be outraged and talking about how Jotaro would never amount to anything unless he turned himself around.

"Look, I get it." The teacher picked through his pockets for a writing utensil. "Sometimes you just need a time and place to be quiet. I've read your papers from your previous school. Considering everything that's happened, being a senior is probably more haunting than relieving for you."

Haunting as opposed to relieving? Jeez, if only that were the case. Jotaro couldn't bring himself to be scared about a ghost in his home. How was he going to be sacred of a deadline or graduation date?

"Just think of it as a time to get caught up on whatever you need to. Stay as long as you like." Tenille-Sensei held out the paper with a pen. "Let's not be bitter about this, alright?"

He wasn't going to leave until he signed, huh? Even if he had to dig up the past and pretend like it wasn't all bad and that looking past the surface was no problem for him. Only his mother ever did that. This was exactly why they kept the secret for so long. No one would understand or take it well.

And here came another person in the span of a few days who had no problem with him. Strange. Jotaro took the pen and filled out the paper against the wall.

"Good, good." The teacher took the form back when it was all filled out. "I'll be holding the first meeting later today at-"

"I'm not going."

"W-what?" The man suddenly looked nervous. "B-but you just signed the-"

"Neither one of us like to cause trouble right?" Jotaro adjusted the fit of his hat. "I can get on board with that. Just don't force me to do useless things and we'll be just fine."

And that was that. The teacher was left alone and dumbfounded in the school hallway while Jotaro left. He had had enough school for one day.

~JJBA~

"Yes, yes. . . Ok. . ."

Ugh, finally. After all that, he got to pull his mother aside. Granted she really decided today would be her lazy day, as evident by her pajamas and the wasabi peas she was eating straight out of the can, but she was still available to ask.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't trust myself with it. . . Yeah, thanks again!"

And she had to call Polnareff anyways to identify the flower anyways. Though from the sound of things, they were able to figure out what it was. Jotaro had given his mother the paper and was leaning next to the furthest most kitchen cabinet. The woman stood by the phone, having left her snack on the dinner table. She curled the cord between her fingers absentmindedly. Oh boy, she usually only did that with her closest friends, who were mostly other women. The neighbor was going to get an earful of all the latest trends and gossip and wouldn't be able to get away from it.

"Ok. . . Yes, I'll be there. . . Ok, bye. See ya tomorrow."

Holly put the phone back on the receiver and trotted back towards her son, paper in both hands. "I just got off the phone with Polnareff." Her worried gaze seemed invasive in a way. "Sweetie, did something happen?"

Jotaro raised an eyebrow from his position leaning against the wall. "Maybe? Why, what is it?"

The woman pursed her lips and smoothed out the crumpled picture. "It's a purple hyacinth," she explained. "It's supposed to be a symbol of forgiveness. But instead of hope for a better future or second chances, it's supposed to be more like expressing deep regret."

Deep regret, huh? He thought back to the spirit shutting himself away in the closet, head hung under some weight. It certainly seemed to line up, and once again for something he considered to be unreasonable.

"Jotaro, did something happen?"

Yes, something did happen. Not something she would understand, though. The young man thought up a quick lie. "Now that I think about it," he began, "I bumped into a girl at school the other day and knocked her stuff down by accident. She ran off before I could say anything. Later on, I found that picture in my shoe locker. I don't really check often, so I'm not sure how long ago it happened."

"Oh my gosh!" Shit. Maybe that was the wrong lie. The woman flailed away and started searching for a note pad. She rushed to the tatami room and start to pull open the drawers of the cabinet sitting within. "C'mon, we should write her a note."

"Mom."

"Jotaro, she must feel terrible! You have to-"

"Mom, it's fine."

She stopped.

"I already talked to her," he fibbed. "It's all cleared up already. At least that picture helped me remember. If I waited any longer I probably would have completely forgotten and someone would have chewed me out for it."

Holly breathed a sigh of relief. "Well that's good. To be honest, I thought you got in another fight with that cut under your eye. Was she ok?"

"I didn't get into a fight. And yeah, she's fine. No doubt she told her friends."

Holly laughed and started to reach for the. "Sounds like you'll have another admirer!"

 _Yare yare daze._ Even if it was a lie, he hated the idea. "Just eat some real food, woman." He went to leave the room. "And make sure you can go into work tomorrow. Don't stay up late."

"Okay~!"

At least the good thing was that she was easy to calm down. That and she would buy into his words so easily. Where else would Jotaro go other than his room? He turned into the hallway. The spirit appeared again and disappeared just as quickly. In a ripple of green fabric, he appeared and walked across, out one wall and into the other.

" _It's a purple hyacinth. It's supposed to be a symbol of forgiveness. But instead of hope for a better future or second chances, it's supposed to be more like expressing deep regret."_

Jotaro clenched a fist. No. He wouldn't get anywhere with this thing, not like this. He didn't know why, but he couldn't just let him wander around without getting some answers. And Jotaro had an idea how. Maybe it was a crazy one, but so were ghosts and the people who claimed them to be real. He waited until nightfall and once more risked his life for the ghost boy.

~JJBA~

Yup. Only I would make a minor villain from part 3 into a teacher at the high school. XD

And yeah, feels like I'm getting a lot done. I guess that's one way to make something out of a sick day. This chapter is done and so in the next one. I think after I post them both, I'll get some actual rest. It feels like a lot of writing and I'm pooped.

But I'll get to writing part 8 eventually. Thanks for your continued support- I'll keep doing my best!


	9. Error: Reversed Element

_. . . What have I done?_

 _What have I done?_

 _I attacked someone who was kind- The first one in so long. And I shunned away so many others._

 _This house. . . It drove me mad. This world that I am no longer a part of drove me mad. Company came, it wasn't the kind I wanted. And now look what happened._

 _And in spite of all that, he risked his life to save mine. He would have given it all up for a stranger who was supposed to go away a long, long time ago._

 _Why?_

 _. . ._

 _. . . I want to repay him._

 _I don't care if we are worlds, lives or even eras apart. There are still things I can do, no matter how small._

 _It will take quite some time to earn their trust, but I want to get back on the right track while I still can._

 _Jojo, it might not be much. And you might not want anything to do with me anymore. But I'm stuck here. I might stuck here for a good while longer. And I'll be damned if I don't try to write at least this wrong._

 _You've more than proven that you can hold your own and stay calm in the face of danger. But if I can lend you my help, I won't have any regrets, regardless of how it ends for me-_

 _. . . !_

 _Wait a second. . . You. . ._

 _Not only is that a dangerous thing for you to be doing, but. . ._

 _You're actually calling out to me?_

 _. . ._

 _I should hurry. The last thing you need is more unwanted attention._


	10. Part 8

Alright, part 8! And Generic User, you have been heard. I think the only issue is that I can't put my email address in the notes of this chapter. It will automatically be edited out of the document. I'll put it in the reviews if I can, though I have to figure out if I can delete it. If it is possible, it will be gone by the end of today.

On another note, thanks to Generic User, 20spooky40me, and Anon-kun for the reviews, although I would like to politely disagree with the lattermost statement made. I can further explain why, but I don't feel that this is the most appropriate place with which to do it. In addition, I would like to apologize for inciting whatever anger would drive someone to say such things. I'll drop the subject and do my best not to spark anymore trouble.

Please enjoy the chapter in the meantime. It's late and it feels a little shitty, but I'm finally getting over my cold. Hopefully, it's still good in some way or another.

Part 8

When he was a young boy (perhaps no older than ten) Jotaro played the game for the first time, having learned from the more "native" half of his family. While those on his Mother's side were of overseas descent, those on his Father's side seemed to be the more charismatic and odd. More foreign, in an ironic way. Take for example, his grandmother. While she was still alive on this earth, Jotaro had met his Obaa-chan only a handful of times. She was a withered old woman, antiquated in mind and body as many grandparents are. But not quite the sort that clung to old and closed- minded standards (though she was at first suspicious of Sadao's choice in a bride). Rather, she was the type to be easily lost in her tremulous and fantastical memories. On and on she would go about her stories, of paper cut-out films that were magic at the time and of the vibrant world Japan once was, of hiding from foreign soldiers and never seeing her beloved mother again after the bombs fell, and of the strange and lonely peace that came back after rebuilding her family. She would tell so many that they all seemed to blend and blur together into an otherworldly fairy tale or the backdrop of a peaceful trance. And Jotaro didn't entirely understand at the time. He couldn't comprehend his home or school being decimated, couldn't imagine what it would be like to suddenly have his Father or Mother gone without a final goodbye. But he listened. He sat right on the floor and stared up at his Obaa-chan as she sipped her tea by the open porch door, back when they lived in the old house. There were some parts that were memorable and easy to understand. Simple things, like how she would make flower crowns with her best friend Aiko or how they would run barefoot in open fields. Perhaps the most memorable was when they played Kokkuri-san. Or rather, when she met him.

 _"I only met Kokkuri-san one time,"_ she had said. It was a vivid memory, her in her faded kimono with a cylindrical cup in her hands. _"Back when I was about your age, I played in the dead of night. And I tell you this: He's real. Me and Ai-chan saw what a goof he was. The Kokkuri-san we met never wanted to hurt no one- he just liked to play tricks as a bit of sport. Sometimes he would get bored and just circle the coin around the paper. The three of us had so much fun, but we were never able to call him again after that night. Every time we tried, he never answered."_ And this childish light sparked in the old woman's wrinkled eyes. Obaa-chan set her tea aside. She leaned into whisper, stuffing her swollen fingers into her coin purse. _"Jotaro, let's you and me play. One last time for an old, dried up hag. Wake me up when everyone else is asleep tonight and we'll see if he decides to visit after all these years. What do you say?"_

Jotaro leaned on the window pane, letting the April air drift in. His mind had finally cleared. It hit him how silly the whole thing was. First off, it didn't even work with his Obaa-chan. They went back to sleep that night and carried on because the coin didn't move. Why would it work now? Second, such a thing could very well be disrespectful to the dead in one way or another, though Jotaro couldn't bring himself to care beyond the mere fact of it. Third, even if this did work, where was the guarantee that the ghost boy would come? What if someone or something else took his place? It wasn't out of the realm of possibility. The way Obaa-chan said "Kokkuri-san" made it seem like it was a respectful term for anyone or anything who happened to answer the call rather than a single someone. He looked back to the paper on his desk, prepared enough to include the red arch at the top and some characters outside of hiragana (as a precaution, of course). A five-hundred yen coin held it down so it wouldn't be blown away. In a way, he had already committed to it. His mother slept peacefully a few walls over. If he was going to do it, now would be the time.

Jotaro still needed answers after all. It would be a different story if he could watch, but there was no telling when the spirit would show up again. And even if he did, not everything would be clear cut. This was eating at him and he couldn't come up with another way to deal with it. Jotaro was never bothered by such things. So why now?

Delaying it would do no good. Jotaro swiped up the paper and laid it flat on the ground. He sat, back to the open window. He had left the bedroom door open, just as back up. The coin rested on the arch and his finger rested on the coin. It was a calm night. And a late one. The hour had recently passed eleven, according to the clock on the desk. No one seemed to stir- not the neighbors, not the occasional driver. Even the far away city seemed dim and lifeless. Jotaro glanced at the open bedroom door, then at the spray bottle sitting next to him. If things went south, the salt water inside should have been sufficient. Jotaro inhaled slowly.

"Kokkuri-san, Kokkuri-san. Are you there?"

The young man waited. He strained to listen for footsteps, scratches, anything that told him that the spirit had decided to come out. Even an out of place "tap" would be enough. The house creaked every now and again. His mother snored softly, alone in the master bedroom. The faint smell of sakura blossoms drifted inside. All was quiet and peaceful otherwise.

Jotaro paused a bit more and tried again. "Kokkuri-san, Kokkuri-san. If you're here, please move the coin."

A breeze teased the back of Jotaro's neck. He felt his body mold comfortably into the seated position. Everyone else would be asleep by now. Or most people should be. Could dead people follow that trend? Probably not. The room wasn't as cold as he thought it was at first. Without warning, Jotaro started to nod off. A brief shake of the head seemed to work, though only for a moment.

Nothing came. The coin remained still.

Jotaro frowned and rubbed his eyes. How long had he been waiting? It couldn't have been more than a minute or two, but he was already feeling himself drift. Maybe that was no surprise. The room was warm, despite the open window, and it was late. That would make anybody sleepy, right?

Sleepy. . .

. . .

. . . The room came back into focus. From the look of things, Jotaro was still sitting up, finger resting on the metal disc. A small shadow sat in the far corner of the room. Did something arrive after all? He let his eyes slide shut again. If they wanted to talk, they would come.

No need to rush. . .

. . .

. . . He opened his eyes again slowly. Moon light was just enough to illuminate his surroundings. The shadow had moved closer, standing up and in front of the doorway. Couldn't have been any bigger than an infant. It made soft babbles, sweet and calming like candy or sunshine. Jotaro saw no threat. Babies never attack out of malice. He'd be just fine. A little longer would be just fine. Just a few more minutes. . .

. . .

. . . . . .

Red.

Bright, angry, bloodthirsty. Two bulbous eyes watched him hungrily from just across the paper. A smile broke out on the figure's face, parading two pearl white fangs. Iggy had started barking, loud and vicious, from down the street. Jotaro suddenly wasn't sleepy anymore. Vicious pain sank it's teeth into his internal organs. Yeah, perfect time for another stomach ache. He had to leave. The young man attempted to rip himself off the floor, but he just wouldn't budge. He tried again. Every limb held fast and stiff as rock. All he could do was move his eyes and sit there. The spray bottle sat mere centimeters away, yet it could have been kilometers for how futile it would be to grab it. Even his breathing, which should have been at least somewhat erratic, remained slow and even as though he were sleeping.

What was this, some kind of paralysis?

The thing laughed, a chilling and sadistic sound. It was the laugh of someone who loved to inflict pain and suffering, the type of nightmarish creature that fed off agony. Tiny steps pressed into the paper. A meaty hand reached up, close enough for one to see the claws sprouting from the fingertips. What was it going to do? Claw out his eyes? Rip out his tongue? Dig deeper and tear everything beyond recognition? Obaa-chan did say never to play Kokkuri-san alone. Maybe this was exactly why. Jotaro screwed his eyes shut, bracing himself for-

 _Bambambambam!_

The infant startled, eyes fixed on the closet door. Jotaro immediately followed the sound, tracing it to the closet.

 _Bambambambam!_

The visitor gave another startled jump and pressed itself against the opposite wall. Jotaro couldn't even turn his head to look and had to use only his eyes. Even then it was clear to see something was making a racket from the inside. Slowly, the door slid open, no wider than the spine of a light novel. A green and silver tendril slithered out, feeling the air and winding all across the floor. The door opened wider. Two more joined the search. A hand curled around the edge. From behind the crack, a single violet eye glared. A menacing air burned around the closet.

And that was enough. Like a rag suddenly thrown, the visitor lept out the window as suddenly as he had arrived. Jotaro lurched forward, grabbing at his abdomen. He wasn't paralyzed. The intruder had left. Regardless, the young man was stuck in place. He dug his nails in further. More pain to counteract the first. Not ideal, but it was still an idea. As the spirit walked out, the room's temperature dropped again from warm to cool. The aroma of charcoal and paint had returned. He looked around, perhaps in search of further threats. The extra appendages wound about the floor, slithering up walls, through them, and even in and around the furniture. Dresser drawers, desk drawers, the shelves in the closet, anything. Eventually, they pulled back. No more danger, perhaps. He turned his head towards Jotaro, analytical and concerned. Without a moment's hesitation, the spirit walked towards him and knelt from the other side of the paper. He must have been thinking, deciding on some plan of action or trying to cook one up.

"I'm fine," The young man forced out. "Get my bag. It's by the desk." If he could get a cigarette in, he'd be fine. Just one was enough.

The ghost didn't seem convinced. Swiftly, the tendrils slithered together and collapsed together. Three tips flayed into five and the base of these tips widened. A third hand had been formed. The fingers curled and uncurled experimentally. It reached towards the young man, the arm stretching like boneless rope. . . And Jotaro felt the hand rest gingerly on the back of his neck. It was cool. Perfectly so, neither incisive nor ineffective. The hand seemed to ripple softly and dampen his skin like water. Jotaro reached up and found his neck dry. Maybe the spirit saw him use the rag before. Maybe he knew he was in pain somehow. All the while, he waited and watched. Surprisingly, it was working. The pain simmered away from the touch just like the rag.

Jotaro finally relaxed. He didn't like being touched usually, but this was alright. He let the arm rest in his lap. ". . . Thanks."

The ghost boy made no reply. He let his eyes fall. Pale hands smoothed through the red hair. Once. twice. The hand blurred through countless other times and twirled the coil before holding up his chin. He was thinking again. Finally, the spirit reached for the coin.

And slid it to rest over "no".

Jotaro blinked. Wait, what? The spirit continued to slide the coin across the paper. Mo. I. Chi. Do. Wa. Ta. Shi. Ni. De. N. Wa. Shi. Na. I. De. Ku. Da. Sa. I.

 _Don't ever call me again._

Was this guy serious? Apparently so. The movement started again before Jotaro could protest. Ko. In. O. A. Chi. Ni. U. Go. Ka. Su. Wa. Ta. Shi. O. Ka. E. Se. _Move the coin to the arch. Send me back._ Ka. Mi. O. Ha. Ka. I. Shi. A. Shi. Ta. No. Yo. Zo. Ra. De. Ko. Ka. O. Tsu. Ka. U. _Destroy the paper and spend the coin by nightfall tomorrow._

"No." The words flew out on impulse. "I've got questions. You owe me answers."

The spirit didn't reply. He started Jotaro for a bit, eyes eventually flicking this way and that. Did he not understand? He blinked and fidgeted like he didn't, but didn't bother to spell anything else out. If anything, he just tapped impatiently on the tarnished metal.

Did Jotaro have to use the coin and spell it all out?

That would have been a nice detail for Obaa-chan to include. Jotaro tried and spelled out the word "Why". The spirit took notice. His mouth pressed thin. He looked away. Reluctantly, the ghost started to form a response. Wa. Ta. Shi. Wa. Wa. Ru. I. Ko. To. O. Yat. Ta. Wa. Ta. Shi. Wa. Ko. Ko. Ni. Zo. Ku. Shi. Ma. Sen.

 _I did bad things. I don't belong here._

Bad things, huh? He must have been referring to when he attacked him before. The way the spirit glanced between the other's neck and knee was incriminating evidence of that. Jotaro slid the coin across the board.

They. . . Don't . . . Hurt . . . Anymore.

The spirit clenched a fist. So. Re. Wa. Mon. Da. I. De. Wa. A. Ri. Ma. Sen. I. Ma. Wa. Ta. shi. O. O. Kut. Te. Ku. Da. Sa. I.

 _It doesn't matter. Send me back now._

Send him back, send him back. Send him back where? Something about the atmosphere seemed as bleak as finding an answer to that question. All was silent. All was still. Despite the moonlight, the room seemed to be shrouded in darkness, plunging deeper and deeper. The ghost sat across the paper, head hung and face unreadable. He seemed to unconsciously weave hopelessness, grief, every inescapable sorrow imaginable into a tapestry, blanketing and suffocating whoever got too close. Iggy gradually stopped barking. The stars outside seemed to die, one by one. Jotaro shed not a single tear. There was no hollow ache, no need to curl up in the dark and stay there for forever. As far as he was concerned, this was only sadness. Sadness was a problem and problems usually have solutions, even if it wasn't his job to fix them. Jotaro wasted no time in picking his words. He spelled out each one carefully.

I . . . Don't. . . Hate . . . You.

The spirit slowly lifted his head and stared at the paper, dumbfounded. Jotaro continued.

Stop. . . Being. . . Upset. . . It's. . . Fine.

Was he getting through to him? Why did he suddenly care?

You. . . Live. . . Here. . . Too . . . I . . . Don't . . . Mind. . . Just. . . Don't. . . Do. . . Anything. . . Creepy.

Something about seeing him so distressed. . . didn't sit right. Jotaro couldn't put a finger on why or how. Was this enough to mitigate it? Maybe, maybe not. The spirit only seemed more confused. Something like this just didn't compute. He ran a hand through his hair, sometimes normally and sometimes at a sonic speed. What, was he having World War III in his head there? Aside from a periodic blurs of facial and eye twitches, he didn't really budge. Seriously? Jotaro didn't care that this thing decided to live in his closet. What was so hard to understand about that?

Maybe something simpler would be better. Something normal. Something that followed a process for when you find certain people you like to be around and proved that there was not a shred of doubt or animosity to be had.

Can. . . I . . . At . . . Least . . . Know . . . Your . . . Name?

Being asked such a thing was apparently shocking for him. The spirit's posture stiffened suddenly enough to jolt the curl or red hair over the side of his face. He stared back, skeptical. The young man waited patiently. This guy should be smart enough to tell that Jotaro was serious. If not, that wasn't his problem. Eventually, the other seemed to relax, as if thinking that maybe it wasn't that far of a stretch. He reached slowly across the paper, feeling about the air. Eventually his hand found Jotaro's shoulder. A refreshing chill seeped in through the fabric of his shirt. Strange. This and the hand on his neck were perfectly fine. Warnings of all kinds should have been going off in his head, but they didn't. The hand slid down. Down the bicep, down the forearm and gently coaxing Jotaro to hold the whole limb out. The spirit felt the wrist thoroughly and then the hand, turning it so the palm faced flat upwards. With the tip of a finger, characters were delicately written into the calloused creases. Jotaro strained to feel just what they were. He counted. . . three in total. First "flower", then "Kyoto", and finally "hospital". So all together. . .

". . . Kakyoin." He tested the name. Yes, it most definitely suited someone like him. "So that's what I should call-"

He looked up. The spirit named "Kakyoin" was no longer present. After a quick glance around, Jotaro found that he was alone in his room once again. Apparently, they were done talking. Yes, it was annoying, but it didn't seem like he was leaving for good. Another opportunity would come. They could talk again eventually. He calmly returned his attention to the paper. "Kokkuri-san, Kokkuri-san. Please return home."

Jotaro felt the coin pull from under his finger. At a much more relaxed pace, it slid over to "yes", and then came to rest on the arch. Slowly, but surely, the temperature of the room met an equilibrium with the night outside. The closet door closed shut on it's own accord. He could no longer smell paint or charcoal. Even the coolness on the back of his neck disappeared. The game was over. Jotaro stood and shut the window, giving one last wary glare to the outside. He eventually tore up the paper, set the money on the corner of the desk, and retired for the night.

~JJBA~

He spent the coin on fruit the next day. It was evening and some unsold cherries happened to be on sale. Holly, of course, was ecstatic. Jotaro didn't partake much (Frankly, he had just forgotten to spend the money up until that point), but couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched by something sad and pitiful.

~JJBA~

Alright, there we go. It's pretty late, but I'm doing better. I think this is the longest piece of multi-chapter fanfiction I've worked on, but it also has some of the shortest chapters. Regardless, I'll keep chugging along. See you guys next time!


	11. My apologies

My apologies.

I posted the last chapter in haste. I don't always write my story planning down and a lot of this I'm doing on the fly. What you just saw was bad pacing on my part and it doesn't seem to fit in there just yet. It will return in the future and there will be a little bit of extra content before it.

Your patience is very much appreciated. I'll keep doing my best.

-Magician Irono


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